


Know Love When You See It

by annewithagee (margaret_helstone)



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne of the Island
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, F/M, Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, and at least they're friends again, gilbert isn't sick but anne is scared anyway, in sickness and in health
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2019-11-23 20:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18156806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margaret_helstone/pseuds/annewithagee
Summary: "I can't do this, Gil. I can't open this door. What it it's too late? What if we came all this way only to find it was all for naught, because she... she..."A story in which Gilbert's health remains perfectly fine, but that's not enough to bring Anne peace. Alternate ending to AotI. Shirbert, books-versed.





	1. A Love Letter

Rusty purred longingly, trying to get his young Mistress’s attention. Anne smiled gently at the sound and reached out to caress the determined feline and yet, her sight remained fixed on the book she held in her other hand,

It was clear that even Rusty didn’t have enough charm to make her abandon Lord Tennyson’s fine work.

“Really, Anne, I never imagined you’d be one to spoil a cat,” Stella scolded her gently. “You used to barely tolerate these animals, and even then you only approved of the clean, well-mannered ones. And here you are, letting the least mannered cat of all lie on Miss Patty’s lovely sofa and encouraging his stay!”

Anne barely looked up at her.

“We let the Sarah-cat and Thomas sleep on the finest of our cushions, darling,” she protested softly. “It wouldn’t be fair to treat Rusty differently. And his manners have improved immensely since we took him in, don’t you think?”

“Well, there wasn’t much to improve to start with.” Stella grimaced. “He had no manners at all – he could only go up from there.”

“I say the important part is that he decided to improve at all. _I_ know what it’s like to be judged for the improper behaviour when there has been no one to teach you anything about it in the first place. I can only marvel at my own initial indifference and lack of understanding towards this unlucky fellow.”

“Oh, enough of this cat talk!” Phil interrupted impatiently then. “You better tell us about this book you’re reading, Queen Anne. You look as if you’ve been wanting to laugh for the past quarter and I am dying to find out why. I’d love to borrow that volume later, too; I could certainly use a good laugh right now.”

“You could always use a good laugh, Phil, no matter what your mood currently is,” Anne retorted cleverly. “And don’t make it sound as if you had any reasons to feel miserable.”

“Tease all you like, Anne, it won’t change a thing. I may be the one getting married next month, but that certainly doesn’t make me any less nervous, no matter how happy I am. I keep having these awful nightmares about Jo changing his mind and leaving me, or about my family suddenly deciding to oppose to the marriage and consequently ruining everything I have hoped for – right when I finally started to believe that I could pass for a respectable wife, even for a minister.”

“Dearest Phil, you know theses nightmares have nothing to do with your future,” Anne protested gently, suppressing a laugh caused by both Philippa’s words and the sight of Stella, mercilessly rolling her eyes at them. “You know Jonas loves you too much to ever give up on you, and even if your family decided to interfere with your happiness in any way – which I am sure they will not – you would not pay it much mind anyway.”

Phil sighed deeply as she sunk on the closest chair. “You are perfectly right, Queen Anne, as you usually are. You know, sometimes I wish I had your wisdom; but then I realise that Jo might not want me so much if I were and I immediately regret making any silly wishes. Anyway, you have not answered my question about your reading: what is it?”

Anne allowed herself a small chuckle this time.

“Something you would not find very amusing, I’m afraid,” she explained softly, her eyes returning to the pages in question. “I’ve been skimming through _Lancelot and Elaine_ , stopping only when I came across the parts dearest to me.”

“And that’s what made you glow so much?” Stella joined the conversation once more. “Why, Anne, I’ve always known you had a rather queer taste in literature, but I would never assume you’d find such tragic poem comical.”

“It’s not so much the poem itself as the memory it brings. I remember discussing it at school in Avonlea, weeping and sighing over poor Elaine’s fate with my friends. I was the most emotional, of course, but the girls were not far behind me.”

Stella nodded with a little more understanding. “I can see how that’s amusing now, although I’d still expect a smile rather than a laughter as a natural reaction to it.”

“That’s because you haven’t heard the best part yet!” Anne responded with a sly smile and began recounting their unfortunate attempt to enact the aforementioned poem on the bright waters of Barry’s Pond. By the time Anne came to the infamous scene of the leaking boat, all three had been shaking with laughter, tears of joy glimmering in more than one pair of eyes.

“Really, Anne!” Phil exclaimed in what was supposed to be a stern tone but couldn’t be due to the cheerful trembling of her voice. “We have lived here together for nearly three years, have known each other for four and for all this time you have not thought it appropriate to treat us with a story like this! Why, I am sure you would have spared me at least one miserable night if you had.”

“She hath kept the good wine until now,” Stella answered, trying as she might to sound as serious and composed as the paraphrase required, and failing spectacularly. “I am only surprised she didn’t wait for Priss to come back – the poor girl will be devastated when she learns how much fun she has missed.”

“There is no need to worry about that,” Anne hastened to explain. “Priscilla had known the whole story long before we even arrived to Redmond and I can assure you that her reaction was every bit as fierce as yours.”

Stella pressed her hand against her chest and sighed with emphasis. “Oh, now I see! Priss gets to know everything in advance while _we_ have to beg! Now, Anne, I am positively wounded!”

“And you two are getting off topic again!” Phil intervened again, this time throwing her arms high in the air for a better effect. “Truly, how you can focus on such nonsense when the great finale is still ahead of us is beyond me.”

“You were the one who started it!” Anne contradicted her with another short laugh.

“I beg your pardon, but _my_ comment was fully justified and in some ways it still referred directly to the story you had told. But enough of this! How did you get _off_ that bridge, Anne?”

The auburn-haired girl chuckled again, a little nervously this time, as she lowered her eyes and fixed them on the text once more.

“That is the part in which my pride suffers most,” she said quietly, forcing a light, careless tone that suddenly felt so inappropriate. “You see, I didn’t really mind climbing that pole – of course, it was uncomfortable and comical, and very different from the romantic scene I had envisioned; but at least there was no one there to see me. And all I needed to do was to hold onto that pole until Mr Barry came to help me out in my distress. He would laugh, of course, but I couldn’t care much for it – he had been an eye-witness to my antics too many times already. Unfortunately, my rescue came from a different party entirely.”

Anne expected her friends to interrupt her with more witty remarks; however, they made none.

“There was...” she picked up hesitantly. “There was a boy in our class, who went rowing on Barry’s Pond that day. He saw me and came closer, offering to take me to the shore in his flat.”

“How romantic,” Stella mused teasingly at that.

“Oh, hardly!” Anne protested vigorously, as if she had been fourteen again, listening to Diana’s most _ridiculous_ comments. “I have never thought of my classmates in terms of romance, but it wouldn’t have been half so bad – half so humiliating – had it been any other boy than the one that came. Dear me, how I hated him then! I had been angry with him before, but it was nothing compared to what I felt on that moment under the bridge.”

“And is there any chance we might know the poor chivalrous knight?” Phil asked, wriggling her eyebrows meaningfully. “Could it be Charles and his big, bulging eyes?”

Anne’s own big eyes widened in surprise at her friend’s abrupt assumption.

“No, not at all!” she denied firmly. “I have never hated Charlie, although I have never been particularly fond of him, either. In fact, I think I’ve always cared too little for him to hold any such strong feelings towards him.”

“Poor Charlie,” Stella remarked with an absolute lack of sympathy. “But if not him, then who?”

“The same boy I had ignored for the three years prior and continued to do so for another two, both at school and at Queen’s – and whom, I believe, you have got to know quite well during our stay _here_.”

Stella was close to choking on her astonishment. “You mean...”

“Gilbert Blythe, yes,” Anne admitted with a small smile. “And I truly wished it had been anyone but him back then.”

“Not so fast, my dear,” Phil exclaimed now. “I know you and Gilbert have not always been friends – it’s certainly hard to call you friends now – but you can’t tell me you used to _hate_ him!”

“Oh, but I did! Or at least, I wholeheartedly believed so.”

“The same Gilbert who is always so kind and considerate, no matter how little he likes the company he’s in?”

“No, the one who had pulled my braid and called me _‘Carrots’_ on our very first day of school.” Anne countered cleverly, her smile widening at the sight of shock that had reflected on her friend’s faces almost immediately. “Well, I suppose you didn’t expect to hear _that_ about him.”

“And _that’s_ why you weren’t friends for so long?” Stella asked with disbelief.

Anne nodded, regaining some of her temporarily lost composure. “We were sworn enemies at the time – at least I was. Gilbert tried to apologise and make things right, but my eleven year old self wouldn’t hear of it; and then I suppose I kept thinking of him in that way because my rise and sense of dignity demanded it. Not to mention, I’ve always had that bit of a competitive strike, and since Gilbert soon turned out to be the only real rival, beating him in class became another matter of honour to me.”

“And you _didn’t_ make your peace that day by the pond?” Phil asked again.

“No,” Anne responded, with a little bit of melancholy – sentiment – embarrassment ringing in her voice. “It was the last time my pettiness made itself known and consequently robbed us both of two years of friendship. He went furious – as furious as someone of Gilbert’s personality can be, anyway – snapped and walked away. He had been a rival before, but he had never seemed to care much about it… But after _that_ encounter he became just as ruthless as I had been from the start.”

“In that case, I suppose your fiery arguments here at Redmond were not even half as bad as we all thought,” Phil muttered under her breath. “It must have been nothing compared to what you two had done at school.”

Anne smiled more sincerely now. “Oh, you should have seen us then. Poor Miss Stacy barely managed to answer our overly grown hunger for knowledge, not to mention that we must have been a terrible distraction from other students, who undoubtedly needed her attention much more than we did. In the end she would just give us more to read, if only to make us stay quiet for a moment at least.”

It was Phil’s turn to nod. “You two really have a history.”

“That we do,” Anne agreed a little wistfully. She brightened up the next moment, however. “But, as one of my dearest friends often says, enough of this! The story was meant to cheer you up, not to make us go down some cold, hostile memory lane. We still have a whole afternoon ahead of us, and I’m not going to waste it in any way. We only have a few short days before we leave Patty’s Place for good, and I am determined to make the most of it – and you don’t even try to talk yourselves out of it!”

“And what would you have us do, Queen Anne?” Stella asked a little sceptically, for which she received a frown from Phil. Seeing the exchange, Anne could hardly do more than laugh wholeheartedly at them.

“I have no idea, my dearest Kindred Spirits!” she cried out with eagerness that didn’t match her words nor the atmosphere from mere moments earlier and yet, her voice resonated with sincerity that could not have been denied. “We can dance and we can sing, or we can leave the house and set off on a journey, if only it doesn’t take us too far away from this most beloved place. I once said that I had two homes – Green Gables and Patty’s Place – and I can’t tell you how happy I am that my feelings towards that matter have not changed at all. It is reassuring to know that one can truly love more than just one place so much.”

“I suppose it must be so, or no one would ever find happiness after they married – save for the people who stayed in their own houses and those who never loved their homes in the first place,” Stella concluded.

Anne nodded in agreement with her words. “It is very true, but let’s not forget those who must leave their homes for reasons other than marriage. Oh, Phil, please don’t give me that look, even if I have deserved it. I know you are still angry with me for what happened yesterday, but I promise you, it has nothing to do with what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?” Phil asked calmly, refraining from a more blatant comment that was springing to her lips.

“I meant _us._ Four college girls, thrown into a new life, away from their families, their neighbours, away from the people and places they care for so much. It could have been such miserable four years, full of stress and loneliness, with homesickness threatening to take over us any minute – and instead they were four years of great friendships, and three of them have been spent _here_. I’m not sure if I could have born to go through the many challenges Redmond had in store, had it not been for the sense of safety this place has given me.”

“Oh, and here I thought it was our unconditional love and support that had pushed you through!” Stella exclaimed, her hand once again flying to her chest in a dramatic gesture. “Now, you have _really_ hurt my feelings, Anne. _Excruciatingly!_ ”

Anne laughed wholeheartedly at her friend’s words, basking in the joy this wonderful comradeship could give.

“Tease all you like -” she said with confidence. “you will not succeed in ruining my good spirits. The day is just too lovely for any sort of pettiness; you can say whatever you want and I won’t take offence. I’m in a forgiving mood – I feel you that if the worst of my enemies came to visit me today, I could not hold grudge against them.”

“Poor Gilbert!” Phil cried out then. “If only he had known that day would come, he might have waited for it, instead of trying to make peace with you over some pond only minutes after he had so _unnecessarily_ rescued you!”

Anne did not find the comment worthy of her answer and decided to resort to violence instead. In one swift motion she grabbed the nearest cushion and threw it at Phil, hitting her right in her smiling face; the latter squeaked in shock but caught the missile in perfect reflex and threw it back at her aggressor without hesitation.

That was the setting in which Priscilla found them in.

“I leave you alone for an hour and you turn into children we used to teach!” she exclaimed in the tone of a perplexed matron, as if she had been at least a decade older than her frivolous friends. “Truly, Anne, what would the board of Avonlea school think if they saw what their favourite schoolmarm does when left unsupervised?”

“I have never been their favourite, so how would I know?” Anne answered her question laughingly, catching the cushion that had once again flown in her direction; however, she refrained from tossing it back. Priscilla raised her gaze to the ceiling, most probably asking the Good Lord to give her patience necessary for dealing with the force her companions undoubtedly were.

“They should take away your B. A.s for behaving like this,” she muttered under her breath as she shrugged off her coat and took off her hat. “I’m not surprised to see Anne or Phil act like that, but you, Stella? Why, I believed you to be the sensible one at least.”

“Don’t lump me together with them,” Stella opposed. “These two won’t listen to anyone and certainly not me.”

“They better do listen to _me_ , though, because I have some great news that should interest them. I’ve been to the post office and there was at least half a dozen letters addressed to us.”

“And I bet half of those are for Phil,” Anne commented teasingly, standing up and approaching Priscilla, ready to take some of the many packages the other girl had brought with her. “Let me take these, Priss, as I’m sure none of those letters are for me. After all, I never receive any letters on Monday.”

“How can you be so sure?” Priscilla asked suggestively. “What if I told you that it’s your turn to receive Phil’s usual, ridiculous share?”

Anne shook her head vigorously. “Impossible! The only letters I am waiting for are the ones from Green Gables and those always arrive on Wednesday, and sum up the whole previous week, together with Mrs Lynde’s great commentary on the minister’s latest sermon.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t change the fact that one of these letters really has you name written on it – and the handwriting does look to me as if it was Mrs Lynde’s, indeed.”

“It can’t be,” Anne repeated; but the treacherous smile was beginning to blossom on her joyful countenance and not a minute passed before she had whipped the envelope from Priscilla’s hand and pressed in to her chest, barely deigning the item with a glance.

“This truly is the most wonderful of days!” she said excitedly. “Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, you bring _this_! Dear Priss, you really are a herald of good news!”

And with that she ran towards the sofa and sank on it once more, impatient to learn the contents of the letter that had already gladdened her so much.

“My, my, Anne!” Phil remarked with a dry smile and a slight rise of her eyebrows. “Judging from your excitement, one could think it is a love letter you are holding; if I didn’t know any better, I would swear it was Roy Gardner who had written to you again.”

“Oh, but it as a love letter, and it’s the most beautiful one – better than any suitor could ever send!” Anne protested firmly, glancing from over the letter with her bright eyes. “No one has ever loved me more dearly than those who lived at Green Gables and I doubt anyone ever could. Green Gables letters always are the most affectionate ones; even if sometimes I am the only one who can feel and see it hidden between the lines.”

“Even if those lines are written by Mrs Rachel Lynde?” Priss asked.

Anne nodded eagerly.

“Even if,” she confirmed resolutely. “Mrs Lynde is a dear soul and a true Kindred Spirit, even if our first encounter seemed to prove the opposite; besides, it never is just Mrs Lynde that writes, although she addresses the envelopes to spare Marilla the trouble. Oh, I can’t wait to read about all the scrapes Davy has got himself in since the last time! I did not expect this letter to come for the next two days and now I can’t imagine delaying it for another minute!”

The three friends gifted her with the same bemused look before chuckling cheerfully.

“Well, in that case I suggest you go to your room at once, Miss Anne,” Phil advised with feign seriousness. “Otherwise you’ll just keep talking to us and we’ll never get to learn what this precious letters is really about.”

“I am not going anywhere.” Anne protested for the last time. “I will sit here for the whole time and share all of the best parts with you immediately. Oh, what a feast this is going to be!”

  



	2. Enters Gilbert

The smile died on her lips as soon as she had read the first lines.

“ _Dearest Anne...”_

It could not be true.

“ _I wish I could start this letter from a reassurance...”_

It could _not._

“ _I wish I could say: don’t be alarmed by the unusual date of its arrival – for I very much hope you have received it early – or by the hurry behind such a change. Alas, I cannot. The news is as urgent as it is serious, so even though there is no reason to panic just yet, I must ask you to regard the matter as such.”_

“Anne, are you alright?” she heard Priscilla ask with concern but made no answer, her eyes gliding over the letter as she devoured the words she did not dare to comprehend. Priscilla stepped closer. “Anne, you’re white as chalk and barely breathing at all! What is it, darling?”

The red-haired girl glanced up at her friend and opened her mouth in the vain attempt to explain her state, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. The lump in her throat was enough to make her success unlikely – with the trembling of her lips and the tears fogging her eyes, it became impossible.

“I’ll get some water,” Phil announced evenly and left the room, while Stella crossed it and sat quietly by Anne’s side. Priscilla remained where she was, watching the scene attentively.

Anne drew a sharp breath.

“It’s Marilla,” she said eventually, when she finally felt she could say anything at all – if only to feel her voice crack as soon as she did. She shook her head. “She’s unwell. Very, very, _very_ unwell.”

She failed to explain anything more as the sobbing she had been trying to fight had finally taken over her. Her shoulders shook violently and a few heavy drops fell down her cheeks, disappearing under the fingers she pressed against her mouth. One or two of her tears came through and fell on the letter she was holding – and the realisation of that little detail only made her want to cry more.

Never in her life had she cried so vehemently.

“Anne, dearest!” Stella exclaimed and embraced her friend tightly, the gesture more meaningful than anything she could say. Anne appreciated it too, and yet, she couldn’t help but edge away as soon as she had found the strength to do it.

“Mrs Lynde says it looked like nothing but a cold at first,” she stammered in between her sobs. “Of course, for someone Marilla’s age even a cold can be dangerous, especially if they refuse to rest properly – but Mrs Rachel clearly said that it was the one time when she managed to persuade Marilla to take a real break before it escalates! Oh, that itself should have been a sign enough!”

She covered her mouth with her hand once more, closing her eyes as she pondered over the threat that had so unexpectedly entered her life. Phil, who had walked into the room seconds earlier, gave her miserable friend a scrutinising glare.

“I know that look, Queen Anne,” she said as she took her place on the other side of the sofa; she handed Anne the glass she had brought with her, but Anne disregarded the offer with another shake of her head. Phil, however, was not one to give up easily. “You think that if you had been there, you would have paid attention to that ‘sign’ as you call it and saved Marilla from the complications. You wouldn’t have.”

“How can you know that?”

“If Rachel Lynde failed to notice the danger, you would have done the same. I might not have met her in person, but everything you’ve told me so far only proves that she is not a woman who would miss anything easily.”

“But she doesn’t know Marilla as I do!” Anne protested again, even more fiercely now.

“Are you really so sure about that? I’m not saying that there aren’t some ways in which you really do understand her better, but you’re doing Mrs Lynde injustice. You have known Marilla for barely a decade, while she has for her entire, much longer life. She raised ten children who, I am sure, fell ill at all ages; and she had had an elderly husband to look after until very recently. You couldn’t wish for a better nurse for your guardian.”

Anne lowered her gaze at the letter once more and closed her eyes right after.

“I still should have been there for her,” she whispered somewhat calmed, even though she had never stopped trembling. “Maybe if I had been there to look after her, it wouldn’t have gone so far and the danger wouldn’t be so great!”

“How great is it now?” asked Priss.

“Pneumonia,” Anne answered before giving in to her weeping again, too weak to control it for longer than those few short moments. Phil reached out and stroke her hair, and this time Anne felt too tired to protest against it in any way at all.

All she could do was sit where she was, with her face hidden in her hands and shivers running through her young, exhausted body.

“Pneumonia is not a death sentence, Anne,” Priscilla remarked eventually, finally sitting herself on a nearby chair. “It’s dangerous, of course – but Mrs Lynde is right about there being no need to panic. We both know she would have told you straight away if there was. And my own mother went through pneumonia last year, and you know that she’s as strong as ever now!”

“Oh, don’t tell me about your mother!” Anne cried out, jerking her head up, her eyes green with anger and despair. “She has nothing to do with it – you can’t _compare_ her to Marilla! And you cannot compare the situations, either!”

“Anne, for goodness’ sake, calm down!” Phil answered the outburst immediately and caught her companion’s arm, hoping to at least prevent her from jumping to her feet then and there and perhaps leaving the room right after. Anne freed herself from the clasp easily, however, and stood up regardless of Phil’s tries.

“Don’t talk to me about staying calm, Phil,” she said hollowly. “You can’t imagine what I am feeling right now. You can’t _know_ what it is like to have someone like Marilla – sick… It’s not like seeing your mother fall ill, because that’s not what Marilla is to me. She is the one who _chose_ to love me and take care of me, against her plans and her neighbours’ advice, against her own doubts, against her better judgment. And she’s not your mother’s age, Priscilla; she’s older and she’s weaker, no matter how much she tries to ignore it sometimes. I will not calm down.”

“You won’t help her in such state,” Stella attempted to reason; but Anne would not be moved.

“I won’t help her no matter what state I’m in,” she opposed a little more meekly, sinking on the sofa again. “No, my dears, as long as I am here, there is nothing I can do. So please, just for now, let me be miserable. It’s one of the few moment of my life when I truly have a reason to be.”

She remained silent for the shortest of moments before rising again, startling her friends with her abrupt movement. “Oh, but I can’t! I can’t sit here, pitying myself when she is so sick and certainly in need of attention. Mrs Lynde might be there but she can’t look after her and the twins alone. I must leave Kingsport as soon as possible and go back to Green Gables, somehow… Oh, but I need to clear my head first!”

And before anyone could stop her, she sprang from her place and ran towards the door, paying no mind to her friends’ astonishment, nor or her own tears that now flowed down her cheeks freely. She still held the fateful letter in a tight grasp – and she was not going to put it away any time soon.

Thus agitated, she did not hear the gentle knocking on the door, nor the quiet creak it gave when the person on the other side pushed it open – nor did she have the time to react when the person appeared right before her eyes.

She ran straight into his chest and barely comprehended that she had at all.

“Goodness me, Anne, that sure is a way to welcome a fellow,” she heard him ask with the smallest hint of humour and realised with shock it was Gilbert she had run into. She took a step back at once and looked up, barely able tot recognise his features through the mist of her tears.

She swallowed and sniffed, and wiped some of them away.

“I’m sorry, Gilbert, I didn’t notice you,” she apologised quickly, her eyes fleeing to the door behind his back. “But please, excuse me. I need some fresh air, _immediately._ ”

Gilbert’s eyes grew wide in surprised, the mirth in his eyes replaced with worry as he took in her appearance.

“What is it, Anne?” he asked again, his voice so full of fear that Anne could not help but glance at him again; and yet, she knew she needed to leave before she did something incredibly silly, like throwing herself onto him, if only because he was the only person in the world who had any idea how much Marilla meant to her.

So she shook her head, _again_ , and waved a hand at him, hoping against hope that it would be enough to make him let her through.

Of course, she was a fool to ever believe that.

“Anne, please, look at me,” he urged her, but she didn’t listen to him. Gilbert sighed deeply and put his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to steady her at least. “Listen, I know I have no right to make inquiries, and I’m not going to make any. But you’re clearly not fit for going anywhere alone.”

“It’s home, Gil,” she whispered, not sure what she was saying, and certainly not capable of realising it was the first time in months since she had last called him by this name. “Home, Green Gables… it’s… Marilla...”

She did something silly then, namely the one thing she had promised herself not to do; but she was too unhappy to care about anything other than her most pressing worries – and in a way, Gilbert was holding her already.

She collapsed into his arms without giving the matter a second thought.

To say that Gilbert was surprised would be like calling the storm a drizzle. He blinked, astonished by her sudden closeness, but did not pull away, as Anne half expected he would. He noticed Phil coming from the other room and hesitated, simultaneously giving the girl a questioning look, to which he received no clear answer.

“Anne, whatever it is, I promise we’ll get you through it,” he muttered into her ear as he finally embraced her trembling form, holding her closer than ever before and yet, unable to draw the slightest satisfaction from the feeling it gave.

He could never be content when she was hurting like this.

“You need to sit down,” he went on, ignoring the sudden wince she gave at his words. “You don’t have to say anything, but I won’t let you out of Patty’s Place until I see you can stand firmly on your own. Come on, Anne, listen to me. For old times’ sake.”

He pulled away then and gave her a small smile, which Anne could not return. She wanted to protest, but Gilbert granted her no time, stirring her gently towards the parlour, ignoring the curious glances the rest of the girls gave them.

Anne walked quietly, with her eyes fixed on the floor before her, too distraught to notice anything at all.

Consciously or nor, Gilbert made her sit on the exact same spot she had occupied before and took his place next to her. The glass Phil had brought was now standing on the tea table; he wasted no time reaching for it and offering it to her.

Anne glared at him grudgingly. “I don’t want to drink, Gilbert.”

“I still think you should,” he insisted with the same gentleness that had marked his actions from the start. “Believe it or not, but clear water can do wonders. It will make you feel better, too. Come, for -”

“Don’t you finish it,” she interrupted him, taking the glass from his clasp. “You’re making it sound as if I had listened to you before.”

Gilbert wisely refrained from any remark that could come to his mind and simply nodded in acknowledgement, watching her sip the drink in perfect silence.

He took the glass away the moment she had finished.

“Thank you,” she responded to his action with sudden shyness, as if the cure he had prescribed her had made her calm down enough for her to realise the impropriety of the situation. Determined not to meet his eye again, she fixed her own on the letter which had caused her distress in the first place – and shivered as yet another wave of hopelessness washed over her at the memory of its contents.

“I’m guessing this is a Green Gables letter,” Gilbert stated rather than asked, nodding towards the creased, damped paper.

Anne confirmed with a nod of her own.

“May I?”

His words took her aback entirely and once again, she was too surprised not to look at him in response. Her eyes soon shifted from his face to his extended hand and she frowned as she tried to comprehend what the gesture could mean. He smiled weakly and brushed his fingers against the letter.

Anne’s eyes grew even bigger now.

“You want to read it?” she asked with disbelief.

“Only if you want me to,” Gilbert reassured her hastily. “But I can tell it is the reason of your current state and more importantly, I am quite sure its not something you’d like to recount. So unless Mrs Lynde is telling you secrets I should not know about...”

“It’s all about Marilla,” Anne explained quickly and handed him the letter. If Gilbert was disappointed by the coolness of her answer, he showed no sign of it.

All he did was take the letter and read it as attentively as the situation allowed.

Anne’s gaze lingered over his focused countenance for a few moment befores she once again realised how inappropriate it was to stare at him like this, especially after everything that had happened between them in the course of the two preceding years. No matter how much she wished otherwise, Gilbert was no longer her old school chum – and as this realisation came, she almost regretted showing him the letter in the first place.

It was too late to change her mind, however, and it was something Anne realised as well.

She looked away then, and fixed her eyes on the floor before her; only to look up at Gilbert again when she felt him shift next to her. His attention was still on the letter, and Anne turned her head away, somewhat embarrassed by her own restlessness. She shifted her sight in the search of her girl friends, expecting to be met by their curious glances and maybe a wiggle or two of their eyebrows, directed at their unexpected guest – and found with astonishment that none of them was present in the room any longer. She tensed visibly after the discovery and yet, it only made her wish to appear calmer than she ever was. With no little difficulty, she refrained from casting another glance at Gilbert, resolving to content herself with only observing him in the corner of her eye.

Her hands were clasped tightly on her lap now and unconsciously, Anne began to fidget with her own fingers; and when that wasn’t enough, she did the same with the soft, creamy fabric of her dress. She closed her eyes in pain, no longer knowing on which to bestow them… and opened them again in shock, feeling the pressure of another, stronger hand covering and squeezing her white, trembling ones.

She looked up at Gilbert in bewilderment, only to discover that he was just as focused on her letter as before, frowning over it with obvious concern which, however, had nothing to do with her momentary agitation.

As if sitting in her shared living room, reading her correspondence and holding her hand had been the most natural things for him to do.

“I’m almost done,” he murmured before she’d had a chance to object or hasten him with any other comment. “Try to sit still for a moment and I’ll manage to finish even sooner.”

He let go of her hand then and came back to the letter with doubled attentiveness. Anne flinched a little at the change, trying to ignore the strange longing for the contact that came over her as soon as it had ended – and quietly scolding herself for even stopping to think of such nonsense when so much more was presently at stake.

_Fiddlesticks_ , she thought to herself, recalling the crisp manner in which Marilla had always spoke while making a comment of this sort. Anne felt her lip tremble and bit it, looking away and sighing for what seemed like a hundredth time that day.

She almost made up her mind to leave the sofa and search for her friends when she heard Gilbert move again, folding the letter he apparently had just finished reading. She turned towards him a little hesitantly.

“When did you get this?” he once again beat her to her question, asking his own. His hazel eyes glowed with determination Anne couldn’t yet understand.

She shook her head. “Just before you came. I’m so sorry, Gilbert, I never would have behaved like this – but we had no warning. No one said anything about Marilla being unwell in their last letter, even though she _must have_ been if it’s so serious now – but I didn’t know. And then _you_ came, also by surprise -”

“Anne, it’s alright,” he disrupted he, his voice warm but firm. He made a small movement towards her, as if he had wanted to take her hand in his again but changed his mind at the very last moment. “You don’t have to apologise for showing your emotions, especially when it’s Marilla you’re concerned about. And I certainly don’t want you to think that you should be hiding them from me.”

Anne tried to answer his words with a grateful smile but only managed to grimace at him instead.

“I’m not sure whether I’m happy or vexed that it was you who came,” she admitted quietly, resting her tormented gaze back on her hands.

Gilbert’s jaw tightened at her words. “I’m sorry if you see it as an intrusion. I have never meant it to be.”

“No, Gil, that’s not what I meant!” she protested, amazed that her words could be understood in this way. It was her who almost reached for his hand this time. “Please, believe me. It’s just… No one here really knows Marilla – Priscilla might have _met_ her, but she doesn’t _know_ her… But you do. And as comforting as it is to have someone else from Avonlea with me now, it also makes it all so much more real. And… and it’s terrifying.”

Gilbert relaxed visibly and nodded in understanding before allowing himself a little, crooked smile.

He leaned towards his distressed friend and tilted his head so he could look at her directly. “Should I perhaps get you some other Avonlea inhabitant to assist you? Maybe Charlie Sloan’s presence could bring you some _comfort_ without necessarily reminding you of the _reality_? He seems to be the most practical young man, but you and I both know how skilled he is at turning every conversation into something quite abstract.”

“I wish all of you just stopped mentioning Charlie today – really, it is rather unnerving.” Anne huffed with some of her usual fire back. “And how can you joke about any of this right now?”

“It seemed like a good way to distract you from all that sobbing,” he answered with a calm, confident smile. “I’m sorry if I appear unfeeling, but you know that I’m not; and I need you to calm down before we move on to anything else.”

“But I don’t want to calm down! I’ve told the girls that and I’m standing by it while talking to _you_.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to if you want to make any decisions today, and I’m fairly certain that you do.”

Anne’s brow rose high, as if Gilbert had suddenly started speaking Chinese.

“Decisions?” she asked, abashed. “I can’t make any decisions from here and I don’t think I could do anything to -”

“You want to come back, though, don’t you?” he interrupted her chaotic explanation with a hurry. “And if I know you at all, you’ve been thinking about getting there since the moment you first learned about Marilla’s sickness. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not,” she admitted, fighting yet another set of tears coming to cloud her eyes. “I have to go back and as soon as I can, but -”

“But she can’t do it now,” Phil finished the sentence for her as she walked into the room with a tea tray. “Oh, don’t you look at me like that, Queen Anne. I wasn’t eavesdropping; I simply thought you two could use some fortification during a talk like this. The point remains, however; Anne is not in a state for travelling and I dare say she won’t be any time soon.”

“I’d be fine, Phil, really,” the other girl opposed weakly and then turned back to Gilbert again. “But I would have to travel alone and as used as I am to it by now, I don’t think it would be wise to do it when I’m in ‘such state’.”

Gilbert shook his head impatiently. “I don’t think you should travel such a long distance alone even in a perfect health, Anne. But I never said that’s what you should do now, either.”

“I can’t ask the girls to come with me, Gil,” Anne explained softly, even though it was apparent how much it hurt her to accept such unfortunate circumstances. “They have their own obligations and responsibilities here at Redmond. Don’t you deny it, Phil,” she added quickly, raising her hand. “I’ve discussed all of these plans with you – I _know_ you can’t afford leaving now. None of you can.”

Silence fell on the room, disturbed with nothing but Anne’s desperate, uneven breathing and the purring of Rusty, who suddenly appeared next to her legs. It didn’t last long, however, as Gilbert soon cleared his throat, straightening up in a confident manner.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter,” he said candidly, before turning towards the girl he had once pledged his love and life to, and looking into her eyes with perfect honesty, he promptly said, “I will take you there.”


	3. Two Kindred Spirits and a journey of four steps

In the years to come Anne’s thoughts often wandered back to that fateful afternoon, playing with the question of who had proven to be more unrelenting on that particular time of misery and hurt, never quite able to give a certain answer to her query.

Was she the one in the lead, with her astonishment and disbelief that had naturally followed Gilbert’s sudden offer and then the protest that had derived directly from them in turn? Or had the palm of victory been his, as he had so obviously ignored both, standing resolutely by his proposition, deaf to the reasoning she had so desperately thrown at him back then?

She had always known him to be stubborn, and to a degree that could only be rivalled by herself; so how could she be surprised to see him act like this that day?

“For the last time, Anne, this isn’t about either of us being comfortable or not,” he had told her then, depriving her of her last argument. “I can easily imagine that you’d rather go back with Stella or Priss, but you know that it won’t work this time and _I_ know that you’re not going to delay your return only because my company is less pleasant than theirs.”

She had protested to that, too, telling him frankly that this particular aspect of their journey had been the least of her concerns, but accepted his general plan eventually.

It was agreed upon that Gilbert should come to Patty’s Place shortly before eight the following morning and that they should set off to the Kingsport train station together from there. Again, Anne wanted to oppose – this time, however, she would have had to battle all four of her friends, who undoubtedly would emphasise the advantage of such solution most resolutely – and she was certain that at this point she could not successfully battle one.

She agreed and then she excused herself when only she thought it appropriate, explaining that she should pack before it got dark and that more than anything, she needed a proper rest before her trip. She found Gilbert’s eyes and, unable to think of words that could express the enormous gratitude she felt, she gave him one, lasting gaze, praying to the Heavens that he could understand the message it was supposed to carry.

He did; he answered it with the weakest of smiles and a silent promise that he would be there for her, for as long as she needed him to.

And now here she was, dressed up in her old grey travelling dress, standing by the gate of her second home, waiting. The morning was bright, the sun shining down on her, its beams warm and gentle against her pale, freckled skin. It was a fine morn, a beautiful morn; and yet, for the first time in her life, Anne could not feel appreciate it at all.

She noticed Gilbert come down the street with a small satchel and immediately felt guilty as she thought of her own suitcase, so much heavier than the little bag he was carrying with him. She knew he would take her ridiculously big luggage as soon as he arrived at the gate and that she could never find a way to talk him out of it.

She sighed with exasperation. Sometimes she wished that Gilbert Blythe hadn’t been such a consummate gentleman all the time.

As she mused over the matter, the young man in question reached his destination, having come to a stop right in front of her. He offered her a smile and pushed the gate open.

“You are up early,” he said in lieu of a greeting, his voice void of astonishment. “I am fairly sure we weren’t supposed to meet for another quarter at least.”

“Well, in that case we are equally ill-bred,” Anne retorted readily; it was disconcerting to think how easy it was to fall into this kind of banter with him, so many months apart _and_ at the time so unfavourable as this, yet at this point, she was far too tired to worry about that, too.

Gilbert chuckled lightly. “I must ask you not to repeat this to my mother, Miss Shirley. She pales at the very _thought_ of me behaving inappropriately, she might end up with a heart attack if she ever heard that I _did_.”

“As long as you don’t betray me before Marilla,” Anne answered in the same blithe tone, before realising to whose judgement she had just referred. She looked away, abashed. “I’m sorry, Gilbert. I’m afraid I’m not going to be the most amusing companion today.”

“I never expected you to be,” he assured her candidly as he stepped closer and bent to take hold of her suitcase. “This is a terribly small baggage, Anne. Are you sure you’ve got everything you need?”

Anne smiled at him sheepishly. “I was afraid I had taken too much, actually, seeing how all you’ve got is a satchel.”

“Well, _seeing how_ I don’t need to worry about petticoats and corsets, it’s quite natural that my baggage is smaller – I should be worried if that wasn’t the case.” He finally straightened up to his full heights and looked squarely at her. “So, is that really all? Are you ready to go now?”

Anne nodded in confirmation and after giving the little cottage one last wistful glance, she finally left the dear place behind.

As they strolled up the street in silence, Anne was once again reminded that even though she herself made a terrible travelling companion, Gilbert did not. He didn’t bore her with unnecessary talk, mindful of her worries that must take precedence over whatever he might have wanted to discuss… and making sure she could still sense his supportive presence at the same time. One minute it was a glance meant solely for her to see; in another it was a word, a thought voiced for no other reason than to rouse her from her musing when he saw it was growing too morbid to do her any good.

Beside that blissful day of Diana’s wedding, it was the first time in over two years when he was not a stranger, passed on the street with nothing more than a courteous nod, nor the one that would pass _her_ in such manner. She didn’t dare to call him her friend, even if his readiness to help her seemed to prove that her that he still considered himself one – but she realised with joy that he had remained the same Kindred Spirit she had recognised in he so many years ago.

The one to whom she had already owned so much.

Her thoughts wondered towards Phil and the conversation the two girls had had shortly after Gilbert had left their little home last night. Anne hadn’t been surprised by the impression he had made on her friends; they had always considered it their duty to bring up his many virtues, especially when Anne herself was there to listen, as if she hadn’t been aware of them for a much longer time. Yet, there was something about what Phil had said that night that had stuck in her memory particularly.

“ _I hope you’ll thank him properly tomorrow, Queen Anne,”_ she’d scolded her then. _“Just because Gilbert would walk around the globe and back for you doesn’t mean he does not deserve to have his work acknowledged.”_

Then, she had only smiled at her friend, too weary to say that if there was anyone for whom Gilbert might want to walk the Earth, it was Christine Stewart, not her – now, as they walked together she realised just how unfair her judgement had been.

Gilbert Blythe would have walked the globe and back for anyone who needed him to – and then he’d refuse to receive as much as a ‘thank you’ for doing it.

Anne felt a sudden pang of uneasiness when she thought he might have missed the thankfulness that seemed so obvious to her. He had appeared to understand her quiet messaged the previous eve – and yet, how could she be sure?

_I suppose there is only one way to find out_ , she thought gravely to herself, and out loud she asked, “Gilbert?”

He responded with a hum and a curious glare in her direction but said nothing more. Anne drew in a deep breath.

“You know how grateful I am for this, don’t you?” she inquired eventually in a hushed voice.

Gilbert’s eyebrows rose as soon as she’d uttered the question.

“Anne, you have nothing to be grateful for,” he opposed gently.

“You know that’s not true!” she contradicted him in a much firmer manner, looking away and gritting her teeth. “I know you weren’t planning to go back for another week – more than that, if the rumours about the Cooper Prize winner’s obligations hold any truth to them. And still, you disregarded all that to help a girl to whom you had hardly even spoken for the previous two years and who had treated it you in the same, if not worse, way. I _am_ thankful, Gil; you can’t even imagine how much. And it hurts me to think that I can never repay you for doing all this so please, at least let me thank you.”

“If that’s what you need,” he answered somewhat absently, after a pause so long that Anne had begun to believe that he would make no answer at all. But then he turned towards her again and with all of his usual zest, he continued, “But Anne, I really don’t want you to think of it in this way, in terms of some heroic deed I have made for your sake. I saw a person in need and I did the only thing I could think of. It wasn’t heroic; it was decent, that’s all.”

“Oh, but that only makes it worse!” Anne bristled at his response, throwing her arms in the air with despair and thus missing the smile that appeared on Gilbert’s face at the sight she gave. “Really, Gilbert – couldn’t you, just for once, put your own needs before someone else’s? Especially when it’s about someone you shouldn’t care about in the first place?”

“I can think of more than a few times when I put my need before yours, _Carrots_ ,” he answered patiently. “And it never resulted in anything good; same goes for my relations with other people. And as for those whom I choose to help – why can’t you just assume that what I’m doing right now is simply about aiding a friend, so the most natural thing in the world?”

Anne sighed a little too wistfully for her own liking. “Would you still call me that?”

Gilbert’s face grew serious in an instant, as he looked at her and responded to her enquiry in a most solemn tone. “Forgive me Anne, I thought I had made myself clear on that matter. I was obviously talking about Marilla here.”

Too such a statement Anne could not remain indifferent. At first, she was too surprised to do much more than blink in shock; a piercing, somewhat pained glare followed as she brought herself to look at her companion after another while. Her grey eyes searched his in hope of an answer as she knew she could not trust her lips to speak; but for all this time, Gilbert’s countenance remained unchanged,

And then he broke into a grin, the widest and most sincere she had seen him wear in months. Her eyes widened in astonishment – Gilbert’s smile turned into the softest of chuckles.

Once again, Anne Shirley found herself at loss for words.

And how was it that it was almost always _him_ to make her feel so?

“I’m so sorry, Anne, but I simply couldn’t pass a chance like this,” he apologised immediately, even though his voice was rather lacking of the remorse he was supposed to feel. “And of course I still consider you my friend; I know we haven’t been on the best terms lately – I still haven’t quite forgiven you for that dance at the Convocation, mind you – but it doesn’t mean you can no longer count on me. Besides, were the roles reversed, I’m sure you would do just the same. And you wouldn’t want my gratitude, either.”

Anne blushed slightly at his statement.

“I wish I could be this sure,” she said hesitantly. “Not to mention, I can hardly imagine you needing my escort back home at any point.”

“True, but what if my mother fell ill and I for some reason could not go to her? Wouldn’t you look after her for me?”

“Of course I would! That is…” she faltered again. “I would, if you both wanted me to. I don’t believe Mrs Blythe would welcome me as her nurse.”

“My mother adores you, Anne,” Gilbert said seriously. “And she has always cared for you deeply, I know she has – I guess she just can’t help caring about her son more. And… she doesn’t know, doesn’t _understand_ everything… no one does. But if she has ever said anything that hurt you -”

“She has said nothing that I didn’t deserve,” Anne interrupted him with the same determination ringing in her voice. “Although the truth is, she hasn’t spoken to me much lately – but again, I cannot blame her for it. And it’s not even close to what I had in mind.”

Gilbert glanced at her questioningly. “What is, then?”

“The fact that I’m not sure I would be brave enough to offer you my help. I would give it to you if you asked – but I can’t promise I’d be bold enough to suggest it myself.”

“Well, then I suppose it’s Providence work that it is you needing my assistance, seeing that _I_ am as bold as ever,” came Gilbert’s even answer, to which Anne could not respond with anything more than a nod, before she looked away to hide the tears that had sprung to her eyes at his comment. Gilbert scolded himself quietly for his tactlessness and almost as if lead by the same Providence he had mentioned before, he reached out for Anne’s hand and squeezed it gently. “She will be alright. I know she will and more importantly, I think you know it, too.”

He let go of her hand as quickly as he had taken it and for a moment Anne wondered whether he had made the gesture at all – or whether it was a trick of her mind, another daydream summoned in order to ease her pain as it had been so many times before. She shook her head discontentedly.

Gilbert was very much real; his kindness was real, too. She had no reason to doubt either.

“I really don’t know what I’ll do if she isn’t,” she admitted at last, her voice barely a cracked whisper despite the best of her attempts. “I tried to imagine it once or twice, but Gil, I just _can’t_.”

“And I don’t think that you should,” he opposed again. “I mean it, Anne. It won’t change the situation in any way and it certainly will not help you get through it. If anything, it will tire you even more; and what’s the point in you coming to Green Gables in such state? If you want to nurse Marilla back to health, you’ll need every ounce of strength you can muster, so I suggest you don’t waste it on pondering over things that are not going to happen. Not to mention, Mrs Lynde will never let you anywhere near Marilla’s bed unless she’s convinced that you came back from Redmond with your own condition unscathed.”

“I know all that!” Anne cried out impatiently. “But I can’t just stop worrying, either. Oh, this is such a vicious cycle!”

“My own experience tells me that in such cases it’s usually the best idea to forget of both parts and focus on something else entirely; preferably the matter at hand. Now that would be to get you safely to Green Gables, as soon as possible. What do you say that we focus on that first and worry about the rest later on?”

Anne nodded in agreement and picked up her pace as they neared the Kingsport station. The rest of this part of their journey passed in an almost perfect silence, with neither of them feeling the need to sustain the conversation, nor bumping into friends who might try to strike up a new one; even though it _did_ seem for a moment that they had seen Charlie Sloane’s hat flicker between the others.

“Don’t worry about this one,” was all Gilbert had to say on the matter. “There I no way in this world that Charlie would be up so early in the day.”

Their time on the train was equally, if not more, quiet, with Anne gazing through the window, restlessly awaiting the sight of the harbour from which their ferry took off – and Gilbert watching _her,_ steadily, insistently, stubbornly even, wanting to guard her when she was too disturbed to do it for herself.

When they finally reached their destination, Anne as good as jumped from the train, leaving a slightly dazed – although by no means surprised – Gilbert to hurry after her. Almost blind with her agitation, she missed a step on her way from the platform and would have fallen flatly had Gilbert not managed to catch up with her just in time to prevent that from happening.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered with embarrassment, her eyes strangely driven to his fingers, that for some reason were still squeezing her elbow, even after so many moment’s she had taken to easy her breathing. “I probably shouldn’t have rushed like this. I’m a little too giddy for it right now.”

“You are tired, first and foremost,” Gilbert contradicted her gently. “Be honest with me: when you excused yourself yesterday, did you really go to sleep as you said you would?”

Anne flushed at his question, although she couldn’t quite point out the reason why; it must have been the morning heat finally getting to her.

“Well, I did try to,” she admitted after a moment’s hesitation. “Of course, I had to pack first, but since I only needed a few most necessary things, that didn’t take too much of my time. I still managed to get to bed at a ridiculously early hour – the problem was, getting to bed and getting to sleep can be two very different stories.”

“Don’t I know it,” Gilbert said with a small, lopsided and slightly pensive smile.

“I thought I was exhausted enough to fall asleep as soon as I touched the pillow, but apparently, it was my misery that took hold of me that night. I tried to fight it – tried to think of some trifles and nonsense… but it wouldn’t do. So I got up and dressed and went out to the orchard, hoping some exercise and fresh air would help – unfortunately, all in vain.”

“I’m sorry to know that, although I can’t pretend I don’t understand. I had my share of sleepless nights, back in Alberta… And more than a few after we came back. It can be difficult to get your own body to cooperate under this kind of stress.” He paused for a moment, thoughtful. “Still, you might like to try to talk yours into resting now. It will be a few hours before the ferry reaches Charlottetown, so unless you have some great reasons against dazing off a little under my watchful eye, you should try to do just that.”

As she had done many times during the past two days, Anne opposed to the idea presented to her, proudly announcing that she could easily manage herself after one sleepless night and that she would not risk her reputation by taking a nap in a distinctly public place. Mrs Lynde would think she had gone mad no doubt; and in all of his gallantry, Gilbert had to quite literally bite his tongue to stop himself from asking his companion when on Earth had Mrs Lynde’s preaching about propriety ever stopped her from doing anything she wanted to do. Anne’s stubbornness only lasted until she reached her seat, however; as soon as she did, she sank into it, her eyelids suddenly heavier than they seemed to have been for a really long while. She fought it for a time; but her body was too tired and her mind far too troubled for that fight to be a long one.

It was the first time in her young life when she would not watch for the shoreline from the upper deck.

All through their journey, Gilbert stayed by her side, looking after his dear friend, making sure she would not wake to the horror of having drooled in her sleep as well as that no one would disturb the precious rest she was finally getting. And if at some point Anne’s head fell lower, successfully though accidentally resting on his shoulder, it was a detail he was not going to share with anyone – including her.

They reached Charlottetown; they changed their means of transportation and reached Carmody next. The trip had gone smoothly until now… Now, when, being just a step away from home, they realised that this final stage of their adventure was to be perhaps more challenging than the other three together.

“There is no carriage,” Gilbert announced grimly after returning from the stables back to Anne. “Nothing they can lend us until morning at best. I was hoping my parents would be here – I wired last evening, but I suppose it was not enough time for the word to get to them. I’m sorry, Anne, but I’m afraid we’ll have to stay for the night.”

“I can walk,” she protested at once, not for a second considering delaying her arrival for a trifle of this unimportance. “I have walked this distance more than a few times now and not always during the day. I understand if you’re tired – we can leave my suitcase in the inn for tonight and I’ll have Davy pick it up tomorrow, or you may stay here yourself and I promise I won’t think ill of it. But _I am_ getting to Green Gables tonight.”

“Alright, now you’re just plain ridiculous,” Gilbert answered her tirade immediately, letting out a sound that came dangerously close to snorting. Anne’s eyes widened in astonishment at his highly improper comment, and she opened her mouth to tell him _plainly_ what she thought of it when he cut her off with a simple yet resolute, “I have not come all this way here to let you wander off alone when you’re most tired. You’re not going to Green Gables on your own; but I certainly won’t slow you down by persisting on staying here.”

Surprised as she was – and a little ashamed of her clearly incorrect assumption as well – Anne nodded with understanding and gratitude and set off towards her dear old home. Rested after her nap on the ferry and fuelled by the proximity of her final aim, she had no reason to slow down her pace. It was as feverish as her tangled, dizzying thoughts; so much that Gilbert, who had at last begun to feel the exhaustion of the previous few months – and his own lack of sleep on the preceding night, which he had so conveniently forgotten to mention – found himself struggling to keep up with her.

They were both relieved to see the contour of Green Gables homestead looming in the distance before them.

When they finally reached the porch and stopped before the door, Gilbert felt fairly certain that Anne would run straight through it, forgetting his silent presence altogether as she darted past the kitchen and upstairs to greet her weakened guardian. Anne, however, did no such thing; she froze in her place, instead, raising her hand to knock and then lowering it again in an instant.

Her skin was pale and her eyes were glistening when she turned her head towards him. “I can’t do this, Gil.”

Gilbert raised his eyebrows, but she gave him not time to answer to her words in any other way.

“I can’t do this,” she repeated at once, gazing at him expectantly, vulnerable and afraid, as if she’d been trying to search for help she did not think she could find. “I can’t open this door. What if it’s too late? What if we came all this way only yo find it was all for naught, because she… she… Gilbert, I _can’t_ open this door and hear that Marilla is -”

“She is going to be fine,” he interrupted her fiercely. “Marilla is strong, and she is _stubborn_ and she would never leave before seeing you, pneumonia or not. And now that you’re here, you can nurse her yourself and _then_ she’ll truly have no choice but to recover.”

He took a step forwards and for the second time in one day – and for the third in two – he took her hand in his, caressing her fingers with all the care and gentleness he had in him, before he leaned towards her and whispered, “I’ve never believed in nursing fake hope but I can’t let you lose yours just yet, either. And Anne, I know you are scared and hurt and unsure. But whatever news awaits you behind this door, the best you can do is try and face it now. And you are _not_ facing it alone.”

Somehow, Anne found herself believing him. She nodded in agreement and gave his hand her own little squeeze.

And then she straightened up, took a deep breath and… she knocked.


	4. Home is where your Heart is

 

Having known Anne Shirley for nearly eleven years now, Rachel Lynde could not be expected to feel particularly surprised at the sight of the red-haired girl kicking her heels at Green Gables doorstep in the middle of the night after what clearly had been an adventurous journey. She had known Anne would come home the moment she had signed her named under the letter; just as she had known she would not procrastinate, delaying the journey no more than it was necessary. And she certainly was _not_ astonished to see the anguish and uncertainty that reflected all over her.

What she _was_ surprised to see, however, was the young man standing beside the girl, closer to her than any rule of propriety allowed…

...and that he certainly wasn’t Anne’s rich, mysterious beaux.

“ _My my, Gilbert Blythe! It’s surely been a while since you last came here,”_ she wanted to say at first but stopped herself, painfully aware of the singularity of their situation and the priorities it brought to the forefront. The questions were burning in her mind, of course; and had the circumstances been different, she would have wasted no time asking them. They were not, however, and Mrs Lynde was no more willing to forget it than she was to keep the pair in the dark any longer – and not only in the literal sense.

“Oh, come in you two, before you catch your death in that chill,” she ordered with her usual briskness, waving her hand at them as she stepped aside to let them through. Neither moved; Mrs Rachel sighed wearily. “Truly, Anne -”

“How is she, Mrs Lynde?” Anne cut her off, as if she had just regained her ability to speak and thus couldn’t mind how impolite her interruption had been.

The stately matron shook her head pityingly. “Marilla’s well enough, no need to be dramatic about it. I _told_ you there was no reason to panic, didn’t I? The illness is severe, there is no point denying that – but it is also steady, and doctor Spencer says we should not lose hope just yet. Now for goodness’ sake, get inside or I won’t tell you another word!”

Having heard the most important news of all, Anne realised she had no reason to defer her entrance any longer; she swallowed nervously and nodded, and finally, she took the few steps needed to enter the kitchen, lit with nothing but the cinders in the fireplace and Mrs Lynde’s lonely candle. Gilbert followed her close.

Mrs Rachel couldn’t help but smile at the picture they were.

“Now, my child, I know how eager you are to see her,” she spoke directly to Anne, silently resolving to give her full attention to Gilbert after this first part of business had been properly dealt with. “And I also know full well that you won’t give it a rest, nor will you get any, until you do and perhaps until you spend enough time with her to ease your consciousness a little. For that reason, I am going to allow it. You may go to Marilla now and you may sit with her for a while – but I still expect you to leave the post when I come and tell you so. I hope I made myself clear.”

Anne, who during that speech had seemed to be preoccupied with everything but it, from the tears that welled in her own eyes to the new embroidery Dora must have left on the bench, turned abruptly at her words and nodded readily, adding a small smile she hadn’t known she’d be able to offer.

“Of course, Mrs Lynde,” she said hastily, her eyes darting from the older woman to the stairs that lead to Marilla. “Thank you so much for allowing all that. And for letting us in so late at night,” she added with another smile after a short, hesitant pause.

“Well, now, I could hardly have left you both waiting out there until morning,” Mrs Rachel answered a little harshly. “Now, if you please, Miss Anne, stop lingering around here and go where you wanted to go. I am giving you an hour and not a moment more, and I’ll see to it personally that you go to bed immediately after that.”

“I will,” Anne promised earnestly and almost jumped towards the noble lady, embracing her fiercely and mumbling her thanks with the utmost sincerity. Then she pulled away and forced another smile, before darting towards the staircase, impatient to finally see for herself how great was the danger that threatened a life so dear.

She stopped in the midst of it, her gaze shifting to the man she seemed to have forgotten for the few moments that had just passed. She opened her mouth to speak; yet, her voice failed her. But her eyes spoke to him, with all the recognition and thankfulness and after a moment she managed to mouth the words as well: a simple ‘thank you’ thank could go be unnoticed.

Gilbert saw the attempt; he bowed his head and smiled in acknowledgement of it.

Anne tarried no longer after that.

“With all due respect, Mrs Lynde,” Gilbert said in a hushed voice after the last of her steps had died down behind the thick wooden door of Marilla’s bedroom. “Are you quite sure this is a good idea? It has been a rather long journey, what with walking all the way from Carmody… And I know from Anne herself that she didn’t exactly rest last night. I’d say she needs her sleep more than she is willing to admit.”

“Well, then that would be nothing new at all,” Mrs Rachel answered with a glint in her eye, smiling weakly. “Anne has always been rather obstinate in that respect, not that she’s particularly compliant in any other. But you see, Gilbert, if I had ordered her to go to her own bed now, she would have just lay in it, thinking of everything she thought she should be doing instead, not to mention her worrying a great deal too much. No, Anne must be with Marilla now; that’s the only way to make her feel tired and calm – and the worst that can happen to her in the process is that she’ll fall asleep in a very uncomfortable chair.”

“If you put it that way,” Gilbert mustered his answer and then, remembering that he still held Anne’s suitcase in his grip, he put the item carefully on the table and cleared his throat. “I better leave it here, before I forget about it and carry it with me to our farm – the last thing Anne needs right now is to worry about her supposedly lost luggage. Would you please bid my goodbye to her and… And if you don’t mind, I would like to visit tomorrow as well, possibly in the morning?”

Mrs Lynde arched an eyebrow at him, even though neither the sincerity nor concern reverberating in his voice was lost on her.

“Why, Gilbert Blythe, isn’t escorting the girl enough of a task for you?” she asked with a slightly derisive, though warm-hearted smile. “Do you also feel the need to aid her _here_?”

Gilbert made no immediate answer; but the one he gave was careful and undoubtedly thought-through. “I do not intend to come here against your will, Mrs Lynde; if either you or Anne feel that I should stay away from Green Gables, I will do so without protest. But I also know that work is hardly ever finished at a farm and my own experience reminds how much more difficult it is to manage when there’s illness in the house. I want to offer my assistance – and I ask you to accept it.”

Mrs Rachel nodded, her admiration for the young man’s actions and words reflecting on her seemingly never weary face. She had never been the one to shy away from a praise whenever it was due, nor did she believe in concealing her emotions in the way her now sick friend usually did.

Still, she could also be practical to the core and that, combined with her most renowned straightforwardness, was enough to make her cut off her own musing and return to the matter at hand.

“Well, I don’t see why I should not,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Heavens know there is more than enough to do around here, even with Anne being back to help with some of it. So yes, Gilbert, I will take on your offer; I obviously can’t speak for Anne on that matter but I very much doubt she will have anything to say against it after she has allowed you to come here with her in the first place. And I don’t doubt your presence will do _her_ good, hopefully distracting her from worrying over Marilla, at least from time to time.”

Gilbert gave her a half-hearted smile. “I can’t claim to have much influence over her but I promise to do my best, Mrs Lynde, with whatever work you assign me.”

“There, there, you incorrigible altruist,” Mrs Rachel waved her hand at him with a smirk. “We will discuss the details first thing in the morn, when we know more about both Anne’s and Marilla’s states. And we will do it as soon as you have got up from the bed _here_ , young man, for I am not letting you out of this house before morning, for sure.”

He stared at her for a few moments, clearly struggling to make his tired mind cooperate as he tried to comprehend the offer – the order, more like – Mrs Lynde had just pronounced.

“Mrs Lynde, I couldn’t possibly…” he attempted to contradict her, only to be shushed with another impatient wave of her hand.

“You can and you will,” she cut him off imperiously, as if he had been the same eight year old boy she had once caught setting a prank meant for her. “You have brought our girl back safely and that itself is enough for me to insist on you staying for the night. Besides, I won’t have your mother cast it on me how inhospitable Green Gables folks are. Matthew’s room is still unoccupied, and I believe you took at least one change of clothes with you, so I’d say it will all work for us just fine.”

Before Gilbert had managed to utter a words, she turned on her heel and set towards the said room, leaving him no choice but to follow her docilely wherever she wanted him to. A wooden door creaked when Mrs Lynde opened it, revealing a small but neatly kept room, as inconspicuous as the man who had once occupied it.

Mrs Lynde let out a long, wistful sight.

“So many years and all they’ve done was store a few old boxes in here,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s no chamber but you will be able to get a good rest here all the same.”

“Thank you,” was all Gilbert trusted himself to say, still slightly bewildered by the idea of staying in this particular household for the night. He left Mrs Rachel at the door frame, walking towards the bed, and put his satchel on it.

“You will find the sheets in the first drawer – I put them back there last week as the first step of preparing this room for Davy. I trust you can make your own bed,” she announced and then, ignoring the affirmation on Gilbert’s part entirely, she threw in, “It was very good of you to bring her home, Gilbert.”

The young man winced, surprised with this final addition and then winced again, trying unsuccessfully not to think of what other home he wished to bring Anne to. But he managed to school his features enough for the sake of their talk and answered evenly, “I really wouldn’t say so. It was nothing a friend wouldn’t do.”

“A friend, yes,” Mrs Lynde agreed. “But I’d think it more challenging for a man truly in love.”

“Well, I have never understood the idea of separating the two.”

His tone was light when he voiced this most painful of truths, even though he was sure it would not fool the elderly lady any more than it could fool himself. Mrs Lynde only smiled a little sadly at him and left with her wishes of good night.

Gilbert’s thoughts followed her as she went upstairs, ready to drag Anne away from Marilla’s side and make her go to sleep as she had promised she would, not so many moments ago.

As he lay down in the old bed, he resolved he would do everything in his might to help them get through this nightmare in the least sorrowful way. He would be there for them, he would be there for _her_ , asking for nothing but her permission to assist her, forgetting the hardship and hurt that had made them drift apart, if only for those few upcoming days; forgetting his own excruciating affection which he had been trying to eradicate for the past twenty six months.

And yet, as he lay there, he could not help but think of how far sharing a roof with Anne Shirley was from sharing a home with her.


	5. The Past and the Present

 

Anne slept in terribly.

Or at least that was what _she_ thought when she first opened her eyes, to see her little white room basked in the sunshine, and what she kept thinking later on as she combed her unruly locks and dressed up hastily. For a second she considered going downstairs as she was, with her nightgown covered with nothing but a flimsy robe and her hair gathered together in a loose, dishevelled braid. She disregarded the idea quickly, however, realising she might be expected to go outside any given moment and she certainly did not relish in the thought of Mr Harrison seeing her in the state of such undress.

Besides, even assuming she could stay in the house until evening, she needed to make room for the possibility that someone would decide to call on them at one point of the day, and since she still wasn’t sure how late it really was, she had no right to suppose none of their friendly neighbours were waiting for her there now.

Most importantly, however, she could never imagine Marilla inkling towards such neglect on her part.

“And neither will Mrs Lynde, that’s what,” Anne mused to herself when she had put the last pin in her hair, unconsciously mimicking Mrs Rachel’s manner of speaking. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, wishing to have one last look at her appearance – and then laughed sincerely when she realised how silly her behaviour was.

“Anne Shirley, you are every bit as vain as when you first entered this room,” she scolded herself jokingly and shook her head with amusement. “Worrying about your looks when there is no one but family to see you. Why, this is positively _scandalous_.”

She turned away from the mirror and set off towards the stairs, ready to start her day, even if a little late. She tiptoed by Marilla’s bedroom – had to restrain herself from slipping into it – and then flew downstairs with the grace and quietness of a woodland nymph to which she had so willingly compared herself for the bigger part of her life.

She was far from being happy and farer still from being calm; but she had no intention of letting either of these feelings affect her enough to stop her from performing her work to the best of her abilities.

She entered the kitchen which she had not had a chance to view properly since she had last stayed at Green Gables during the Christmas break. Free from the exhaustion and anxiety that had been her share on the previous night, she could now see little changes all over it: the number of cups sitting on the shelf, reduced from eight to seven; a new rag placed before the fireplace, undoubtedly Dora’s latest attempt; two wooden figures decorating the sill, which she could only assume were Davy’s newest prize.

And then, the wide table, neat and empty, with nothing on it but a leaf of bread, some cheese and preserves left for her for her lonely meal.

She smiled weakly and walked over to the hearth, taking the poker than hung next to it, in the same place it always had. She jogged the coals in an attempt to fan the fire necessary for the making of her morning tea – and then turned abruptly, sensing a strange presence behind her back, and waved the poker, missing the intruder’s face by a few inches of sheer luck, helped perhaps by his own excellent reflex.

“For Pete’s sake, Anne, it would have been enough to tell me to back off!” the man she now recognised as Gilbert exclaimed mockingly, his hands held high in a defensive gesture. “I don’t need another scar on my head, the one I’ve got is good enough on its own. And _this_ looks far more dangerous than a slate!”

Anne blinked at him, utterly astonished, and took an involuntary step back. The fire poker was still held firmly in her hand, but she lowered it after a while as she eyed Gilbert up and down, still unable to comprehend the situation they had found themselves in.

“What are you doing here?” she asked eventually, turning around with the same suddenness that had nearly caused her to injure him seconds ago. She hung the instrument on its hook and after a moment’s hesitation, she slowly moved to face him again.

Gilbert gave her a small, lopsided smile. “Except from unintentionally provoking an assault on my life? Not much, at least not until Mrs Lune comes down again and suggests something.”

“I meant, what are you doing _here_ , at Green Gables, and so early in the morning?” Anne retorted with emphasis and then, remembering her own musing from a quarter ago, she asked hesitantly, “It _is_ rather early, isn’t it?”

“It surely is,” Gilbert confirmed with a smile. “I have only just ushered the twins to school, so that should give you an idea how early exactly.”

“You looked to them leaving?” Anne asked, her bewilderment only growing. “But that -”

“There wasn’t much to it, really,” he objected hastily, misreading her surprise. “Dora could have done everything on her own, I’m sure, except of course keeping Davy in line. I forgot what a pill that boy can be – then again, it wouldn’t be fair to say he hasn’t changed at all.”

The mention of the children she had come to treat as siblings made Anne relax into the same state of restrained dreaminess that had of late replaced her wilddaydreaming from the past. The expression of shock faded from her face, replaced by that of love and wonder, and that infinite feeling of belonging that had always reflected in her features whenever someone mentioned her family and the sense of _home_ it carried with it.

The home she had not allowed herself to dream of as a child; which she had never let herself underrate when she’d grown up.

Realisation dawned upon her, bringing her back to the reality she had left for that short while.

“They’re almost twice as old as when they first came here,” she said unexpectedly, looking back at Gilbert, eager to share her sudden discovery, even if she knew it couldn’t be more obvious to him. “Six years, Gil! I’d never say it’s been so long.”

Gilbert, whom the dreamy look on Anne’s face had managed to distract as much as her thoughts did her, returned the gaze somewhat hesitantly, clearly unsure of how he should respond to that new revelation of hers.

“Six years is a long time, indeed,” he answered absently at last; and then quietly, he added, “I’m sorry I’ve missed the past two.”

Anne opened her mouth, more in surprise than in an attempt to answer him, but Gilbert paid it no mind. He moved from his spot instead, reaching for the empty kettle and walking over to the pump to have it filled. He turned around then and, seeing that Anne had not moved an inch herself, he pointed to the table with a nod.

“You might want to start on your breakfast now,” he said with a tentative grin as he hung the kettle over the fire. “It’s going to be a long day, and I can’t recall you eating anything last night. Now tell me: where do you keep your tea these days?”

“In the same place we always have,” she responded, hoping that despite her inattentiveness from the moment afore she sounded lightly, or maybe even teasingly, enough. “But if you think I’m going to allow you to make _any_ tea in my own house, _Mr Blythe_ , then you are severely mistaken.”

“And why is that?” Gilbert answered without missing a beat, falling back into their usual bantering in an instant. “You don’t think my tea-making abilities lack anything, do you, Anne? _You_ are the one who taught me everything I know about it, doubting my skills would only mean doubting your own schoolmarm capability.”

Anne looked at him with wide eyes for a moment, before retorting, “You can’t blame the teacher for the clumsiness of the _child_ , Gilbert,” she said emphatically. “Even though I can see your wit is still at work, at least as long as it comes to twisting other people’s words. Is that what gave you such a reputation at Redmond, with all the professors fawning over you? Is _that_ what they’re granting the Cooper for these days?”

That moment, as he looked at her dashing stance, Gilbert felt he could no longer refrain from the chuckle that had been trying to escape his throat since the moment of their dramatic encounter. It was neither long or loud, but it was honest nonetheless; and Anne could not have missed the fact that it was the first time in months – in _years_ – that she had heard the sound of it.

A strange wave of warmth overcame her, soon joined by the stinging realisation of how much she had missed it.

She shook her head at herself and smiled, finally deciding to take her place by the table and let Gilbert take care of her tea after all.

“Alright then,” she announced in a defeated, yet still cheerful voice. “You may take care of the tea this time, but only if you promise to have it with me afterwards. I do not fancy being watched over my breakfast by someone not participating in the affair.”

“Your wish is my command,” Gilbert responded solemnly, bowing before her, only to let out another chuckle a moment later, before returning to his previous seriousness and adding, “And pray believe me that the pleasure is all mine.”

Anne smiled at both of his comments, but refrained from replying to either, resolving to shift her attention to the much needed meal instead. She remained silent and so did Gilbert; but she did not forgo the pleasure of glancing at him every now and then, almost as if she had been afraid that he would disappear otherwise, a strange apparition that, by the laws of logic at least, had no reason to stay where he was staying now.

He _was,_ however, and as real as he had ever been. The feeling of warmth caused by his laughter had not left her, and on the contrary, only seemed to grow – and despite her own confusion, Anne could not wish for the feeling to go away.

It was almost as if someone had sent them back in time, to those carefree days when they had both taught at school – and yet, the burden of the past could not be shaken off and forgotten so easily. And somehow, Anne was glad; they could _not_ go back, after all, and pretending that they had would only have turned the situation it into some horrible farce. What they had here was undoubtedly queer, unknown, unsettling… But it was also _real_ and after the foolishness of romance she had left behind, anything of reality looked ten times more appealing.

It was also the first time when Anne allowed herself to hope that Gilbert Blythe could come back into her life, in some way at least.

“You must have come here terribly early today,” she offered quietly at last, after Gilbert had taken a seat at the other side of the table. She blushed a little in embarrassment when he looked up at her curiously, and hurried to explain her point. “To see Davy and Dora off, that is. They usually need a while to get ready in the morning, with breakfast and everything – and since I assume they left on time, you had to be here as soon as they woke up.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly the one to drag them out of beds, so I can’t take credit for that,” her companion answered brightly, pouring another portion of tea into Anne’s cup, completely ignoring her faint protests. “Mrs Lynde did that, and I dare say that lady does it much more effectively than I ever could. I did take care of their breakfast, though, and then I made sure they would not be late for the class. Nothing more, nothing less, as my father would say.”

“But it still is so early!” Anne exclaimed. “It must have been dark when you left home, and I can’t think of a reason why you would -”

The questioning look Gilbert gave her was enough to make her trail off. She returned the gaze, confused, not yet able to guess why he would look at her in this way when her own words appeared to be perfectly reasonable and clear. The young man in front of her didn’t say anything, however, and Anne quickly decided that the best she could do was to simply ask him about it all.

Of course, as soon as she had opened her mouth Gilbert decided to clarify the matter himself.

“I didn’t go home last night,” he said evenly, rendering her completely speechless before she had managed to utter a single syllable of her own. “I was going to, but Mrs Lynde wouldn’t hear of it; something about giving my mother a reason to think ill about Green Gables hospitality. You know how difficult it is to change her mind about anything, too. So I stayed and since I did, I thought I may as well make myself useful – especially seeing that I intended to call on you today anyway.”

“But why… that is… your parents…” Anne stammered in response, her eyes round with shock. “That is, weren’t they expecting you?”

Gilbert shook his head vigorously. “I told you that I had wired them, but it is obvious that they didn’t get the message in time – we wouldn’t have had to walk from the station if they had. And I am going to go home today, sooner or later… So there is nothing to worry about. Unless, of course, _you_ think there is.”

He looked directly at her then, his voice echoing with insecurity for the first time that day. His gaze wasn’t any different from his tone, as he bore into her eyes, searching for the answer he still was a little afraid to receive.

“No, of course not!” she contradicted passionately, surprised even further with this sudden assumption of his and then blushed slightly again, realising how fierce her protest had been. “I’m so very glad that you are here, I can’t tell you how much so. I was simply taken aback – you have already helped me so much, I didn’t think you would like to continue when I can finally struggle with the problem on my own.”

Gilbert offered her a small smile. “I like helping you, Anne, and even if I didn’t, that’s what friends are for… And I have already told you that I still want to consider myself yours. Besides, as I’ve said before, Mrs Lynde didn’t give me much choice; and I have no reason to rush back home for a few hours at least.”

“I’m glad,” Anne repeated absent-mindedly, raising her gaze at him with a new, unknown tenderness of which she herself was not aware, but which proved to have quite an effect on the man in front of her. She dropped her eyes almost immediately, thus missing the astonishment that reflected on his face and, still slightly at fault, she turned her attention to her own cup and plate.

As she bit into her toast, her attention was once again summoned by Gilbert’s strangely quiet voice.

“Are you really?”

Anne met his gaze again then, curious as to see if his countenance reflected the same vulnerability that for some reason rang in his tone. She couldn’t tell whether the expression in his eyes was that of hope or fear, or maybe mere courteous interest; but as she looked, her mind wandered towards a warm autumn day of long ago, remembering the boy that had vexed her so strongly. The corners of her mouth twitched as she realised it was this very expression he was wearing now, the same that appeared on his face when he had come to apologise to her so many years earlier.

“ _I’m awful sorry I made fun of your hair...”_

“Honest I am,” she finished her thought out loud and broke into the most sincere grin, a grin that only widened at the sight of complete astonishment that her friend immediately displayed.

Anne let out a small chuckle and shook her head at the children they had once been – and who apparently still constituted a big part of who they were now.

Gilbert mirrored her action with a chuckle of his own; but when he opened his mouth to inquire about the comment, he was stopped by the sound of a creaking door and a slow but confident step. He glanced towards its source and then back at Anne – he raised an eyebrow at her and she responded with nothing but an innocent smile and a barely noticeable shrug of her shoulders. And then she simply resumed her meal, blind and deaf to Gilbert’s behaviour, patiently waiting for Mrs Lynde to finally join them downstairs.

 


	6. Anne takes on nursing

_And then she simply resumed her meal, blind and deaf to Gilbert’s behaviour, patiently waiting for Mrs Lynde to finally join them downstairs._

And join Mrs Lynde did.

She greeted Gilbert enthusiastically for the second time that day after she had greeted Anne for the first; she poured herself a generous cup of tea and sank down on the chair nearest to her, bluntly announcing how exhausted she felt, and then she confounded her own statement by jumping to her feet and marching across the kitchen in the search of a task that could occupy her in another way; and when at last she realised that no such task was to be found, she sighed deeply and, resting her gaze on the two young people sitting before her, she stated that there could not be a greater blessing for the household than the pair staying where they were now.

Anne chuckled awkwardly at her words and glanced at Gilbert, expecting him to send her one of his old, playful glares, followed perhaps by a discreet roll of his bright hazel eyes. She felt a pang of disappointment when she found him studying his cup instead, as if suddenly the thought of sharing glances with her had been the last of his concerns.

_Which it probably is_ , she thought immediately and involuntarily. She shook her head at her own silliness, resolved not to waste the precious little energy she still possessed on fancies and musing of no use; she returned to her breakfast, biting into her toast with a new zeal that surprised even her.

“I’m going to stay with Marilla today,” she announced as soon as she had swallowed the first mouthful, her voice ringing with determination both of her companions knew so well. “I unpacked everything last night, so there is nothing to keep me from going to her as soon as I’ve finished breakfast… And you, dear Mrs Lynde, may finally get some of the rest you undoubtedly deserve.”

“Hush, hush, now,” Mrs Rachel protested in an instant, as if offended by the assumption that she could ever truly tire at all. “I am not as overworked as you think I am, even though I complain about it a little; however, I certainly won’t oppose to you looking after Marilla, especially as taking care of her is the main reason of your coming here in the first place… And it does give me an opportunity to finally make a good use of the kitchen. This family haven’t had a proper meal since Marilla’s first collapse and I say we could all benefit from a change.”

“I am sure you never would have allowed that!” Anne said, slightly more at ease, amused by the impossibility of the vision that had been painted before her. “I have seen with my own eyes how effective you can be, Mrs Lynde, no matter the circumstances. I very much doubt anything has changed in that regard.”

“And I’m afraid the circumstances you have in mind did not include Davy and his never-ending queries. He really is a dear lad, but sometimes he is just too much for anyone to handle.”

Anne smiled genuinely at that. “He is a twelve year old boy, Mrs Lynde, he is bound to get himself into scrapes every once in a while. _I_ wasn’t a boy and just think how much trouble I could cause! And yet, I dare say I grew up decently. Davy won’t be any different, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I know he won’t,” Mrs Rachel conceded to the opinion. “That is why I’m not really worried – only that still doesn’t change the fact that he can be a nuisance, even if the most loveable one. He really knows how to distract one from their work, that’s for sure and certain… and _that’s_ a problem even with everyone on their feet.”

“Would you rather I took care of him, then?” Anne asked a little hesitantly, quietly hoping that the answer to her question would be a negative one.

All Mrs Lynde needed was a glance to see right through her.

“No,” she said confidently, smiling a bit more widely after she noted the relief that had washed over the girl. “He and Dora won’t be back for a good few hours and I should be done with the cooking by then; whatever Davy has in store for us today, I can deal with it, as long as there is nothing else on my mind. And since you will be looking after Marilla… Why, I’d say we will manage perfectly well. As long as Davy does not come searching for academic answers, at least.”

“Perhaps I could be of some use if he does,” Gilbert offered then, finally joining the conversation and immediately having the ladies bestow all of their attention on him. He smiled somewhat sheepishly before explaining. “I have never claimed to be as good a teacher as Anne was but I still believe I know enough to resolve his most basic doubts. In fact, I could try to busy him in other ways as well, so you don’t have to worry about having him under your feet half the time. If you want me to, of course.”

“You’d do that?” Anne asked in disbelief, eyeing him carefully. “Even if it meant staying here for so much longer?”

Gilbert merely shrugged in response. “I told you I didn’t have much to do anyway, and I’d rather stay here and be useful than wander around my house, convincing my mother that I really don’t need any more of her feeding,” he said with a playful grin tugging on his lips. “And they never let me do any work there on my first day back, either.”

“But won’t they want to see you? Surely, you don’t want them to find out about your arrival from anyone else but yourself, do you?”

“I don’t; but you see, I _did_ plan to see them today and earlier than this evening. I thought I might actually go home around noon -” here he turned to face Mrs Lynde, as if asking for the permission he did not need. “That way I could have some work done here before I leave, while still being able to spend the lunchtime with my parents – and then I’d simply come back here and take over Davy when he does as well.”

Anne nodded absently, silently pondering over his words, thinking with dismay that his offer was a little too generous to be so easily accepted, while simultaneously realising how small was the chance of her convincing him to change his mind.

“Are you sure it isn’t too much?” she asked at last, her question more of a formality than anything else.

“I am,” Gilbert confirmed readily. “And really, Anne, I know what I’m doing. There is no need for you to worry over _me_ , too.”

“Well, in such case...”

“We thank you, Gilbert,” Mrs Lynde cut in before Anne could trail off, as she undoubtedly would have had it not been for the older woman’s intervention. “It is indeed a very good plan, and a very reasonable one. I admit I was slightly worried about Felicity’s reaction to your staying away for too long, even if for such noble reasons… but you have just solved that problem for us. As for helping Davy, I’m sure you won’t let him walk over you and that’s the only thing to be concerned about when it comes to him.”

“We will be alright, Mrs Lynde, I promise,” he answered her patiently. “We have always understood one another well, and I have always _liked_ him, too. And I doubt he’s any worse than I or my friends were at his age. Besides, I think it may do us both good to dust this old acquaintance a little.”

“Well, all is settled then,” Mrs Rachel announced, rising from her seat and straightening up a bit, back in her element of managing those around her and giving orders necessarily linked to that particular task. “Anne, make haste on that breakfast of yours, so we can fulfil your wish and go to Marilla at once. I will tell you everything you need to know when we’re there, so you don’t have to worry about doing something in a wrong way – although to be fair, I think you have too much sense to do anything of the sort, with or without my guidance. You, Gilbert, must wait for me here; I will be back in a few minutes at most and then we will discuss your share of duties for today. Is that clear, you two?”

Anne bowed her head in confirmation, hiding the grin that blossomed on her lips in response to Mrs Lynde’s imperious speech behind the rim of her cup. She risked one more glance at Gilbert and found the joy that he was equally amused, and that this time he did not mind sharing his cheerfulness with her, giving her the same look she had intended for him. Her smile widened; her eyes sparkled with hope.

Yes, the day promised to be a long one, indeed.

And yet, she could not help but think it would be better than she had ever expected it to be.

Once again, she returned to her meal, rightly assuming that Mrs Rachel would not allow her to linger on it for much longer after she had already set another goal for them to aim at. She was, indeed, correct: hardly had she had the time to swallow the last bits of her toast when she realised that the older woman had found her way to her chair and was now waiting impatiently for the moment when they could move on to the next task. Still a little amused, Anne did not protest, except for her gentle suggestion that she should, perhaps, wash the now empty dishes first. Mrs Lynde objected to that argument in an instant, bluntly announcing that she she could do so while explaining her plans to Gilbert afterwards, and that there was no need to waste their time on it now.

“I am not going to chat with the man doing nothing, while you take care of the job I can do myself, instead of looking after Marilla as we agreed you should be doing. Now stop opposing me, child, and do as I tell you – Marilla has been left unguarded for long enough and even if she is still sleeping, we should not have left her alone for this long.”

This last argument was enough for Anne to give up the discussion. With nothing more than a nod she stood up from her chair, giving Mrs Lynde to understand that she was ready to follow her upstairs, not really bothering to excuse herself before her other, younger friend.

She knew a smile was enough for both of them right now.

As the ladies went upstairs, Gilbert stayed in the kitchen, patiently waiting for the older one to return, wondering if maybe he should take the task of cleaning upon himself, idly pondering over how Mrs Lynde would react to such boldness on his side. She had made herself quite clear earlier, after all, even if her imperious statement had been mostly meant to talk Anne out of her own ideas at the time.

Besides, he still was nothing more than a guest in this house, and one who in the course of the previous two years had almost earned himself a name of a stranger, too. No matter how kind or cordial Mrs Lynde had always been towards him, he could hardly imagine her appreciating him rummaging through her kingdom of a kitchen on his own – and his own noble intent could not be of any meaning to her, either.

He was spared any further musing on the subject when the lady in question reappeared in the room again, as ready to set him to work as she was to start on her own. Gilbert was more than grateful; he knew himself well enough to realise how easy it was for him to succumb to the thoughts of his past, so tightly bound to the place at which he was staying now. It was a dangerous sentiment and one he did not mean to feed – and any distraction from his own mind was in his eyes a most welcome one.

The list of tasks Mrs Lynde had prepared for him held no great surprises: a fence that needed mending, a stack of branches waiting to be burned, which he had yet to recognise as the remnants of the magnificent and lovely Snow Queen. He accepted each of the many jobs with a resolute nod, finding with satisfaction that even though they might have seemed insignificant at first, they were clearly more than a mean to satisfy his need to prove himself useful; that even the smallest of these tasks, if carried out decently, meant a real, tangible benefit to the homestead and the family that lived off it.

Not a farmer himself, yet still a son of one, he could easily understand that much.

He appreciated it for his own sake alone.

The morning hours flew by for all: Gilbert, eagerly doing the assigned work outside the house and finding new when the former didn’t seem to be enough; Mrs Lynde, finally free to rule in the kitchen again and thus determined to make the most of the time so unexpectedly given to her.

And lastly, Anne herself who, finally allowed to take real care of her sick guardian and friend, had thrown herself into her new duty with such vigour that Mrs Rachel had to quite literally drag her away, while simultaneously explaining that, yes, it had indeed been late enough for her to go downstairs and have some lunch.

Albeit unwillingly, Anne yielded to the order and allowed Mrs Lynde to lead her to the lower floor and to the wide table that somehow had become the beating heart of her home; and then found with astonishment that they were the only ones to sit by it this time.

“ _Shouldn’t we wait for Gilbert?”_ she wanted to ask, seeing her companion pour the steaming tea to their cups; only to remember with embarrassment what he had said about spending the lunchtime with his parents only a few short hours before. The sudden feeling of disappointment was soon overshadowed by dismay and resentment towards herself, and had she not been so weary, it could easily have turned into anger as well.

_How silly of me_ , she chided herself, hoping that neither her emotions nor the little inner monologue she was having with herself now were noticeable to Mrs Lynde’s watchful eye. _To ponder over his absence when he has so plainly announced and explained it to me – and when there is so much to worry about it beside that! Oh, so not only am I silly – am I to be ungrateful, as well?_

Anne sighed heavily, no longer able to keep her sorrows to herself. She had yet to learn that it is usually the time of trial that makes us seek and wish for comfort that another person’s concern can give; and that such wishes do not diminish the genuineness of our loyalty to those for whom we are worried in our turn. Her sorrow was too fresh to fully realise that truth – but the consciousness of it was waking up in her and it was not long before she would understand the full meaning of it.

For now, however, she remained blind, her disdain for herself reflecting in her posture in the same way her miserableness did. Mrs Rachel saw it and judged it well; and it was for that latest reason that she made no remark, nor did she object when Anne asked to be excused so soon, so that she could go back to Marilla and spend the rest of her day by that so dearly loved woman’s side.

Anne’s afternoon was spent even more quietly than her morning had been. For hours did she sit in the small but tidy bedroom, doing little else than watching Marilla, who on her part remained quiet for most of the day; still too weak to comprehend the situation around her or even the fact that her beloved girl was the one to nurse her.

Anne would not leave the room again – and she certainly wouldn’t do so for reasons as trivial as tea, and even the idea of Dora and Davy waiting for her so impatiently could not make her waver in her decision.

“I will go down soon enough for dinner,” she protested in a voice much weaker than she intended it to be. “Please, don’t think I haven’t missed the twins and more importantly, don’t let them believe so. But I cannot go just yet.”

Mrs Lynde tried to argue some more after that but, having neither the time nor means to successfully persuade the young and very red-headed woman in front of her, she gave up eventually, resigning herself to attending those of her charge who awaited her downstairs. However, when Anne refused to have any dinner as well, Mrs Lynde decided that even her patience had at long last ran out.

“Even self-sacrifice has to have some limits, Miss Anne,” she said sternly. “You are here to help Marilla, not to kill yourself doing so. What do you think _she_ would say if she saw you make such a scene over it? _Fiddlesticks_ , that’s what!”

Anne bowed her head but made no other answer.

Mrs Rachel exhaled with exasperation. “As I live and breathe, Anne Shirley, I have never met a girl more stubborn than -”

“Can I at least have it a little later?” Anne pleaded suddenly, raising her eyes on Mrs Lynde. “If I go there now, there will be talking and questions and it will take so much more time that if I could just have it alone. I _will_ eat after you’ve finished; I promise you I will. Just… Please don’t make me go there now.”

“And don’t you think you owe the twins some of your time, too?” the other woman asked implacably. “Or Gilbert, for that matter?”

“Gilbert will understand,” Anne answered faintly “And I _will_ see Davy and Dora before they go to sleep – and I’ll make it up to them tomorrow, too! Only… now…”

“You cannot go; yes, I’ve heard that,” Mrs Lynde finished with a heavy sigh and shook her head at the frantic girl seated before her. “Let it be your way, then, Anne, but know it is the last time I agree to your pleading – I’m expecting you to help me outside of this room tomorrow, and if you try to skip today’s dinner, you can be sure that I won’t allow you _inside_ it for the next week.”

“Thank you,” was all Anne cared to say, standing up and pressing a soft kiss to her elderly companion’s cheek. Mrs Lynde could not help but smile; be she left the room shortly after all the same.

Now, many things could be said about Anne Shirley. That she was stubborn was a widely known fact; that she could change her mind and make astonishing choices was a truth known to few, and only those who knew her best (until, of course, the word of her rejection of Roy got out, she thought grimly). She _was_ , however, a woman of her word; and if she had promised Mrs Lynde she would leave her post and dine, that was exactly what she would do.

After all, dishonesty was the one sin no one could accuse her of.

She went downstairs, praying that she would not meet anyone on her way there, and scolding herself fiercely for allowing any such thoughts. Her pleas must have been heard, however; and consequently, her own qualms only grew. But she was glad nevertheless, enjoying this silent, lonely meal as much as she could, given the circumstances she had found herself in.

She had only just put the last of the dishes in place and was about to go and see the twins as she had promised she would… When she heard the door creak quietly and open, revealing a very pale, very worn out, and _very_ satisfied Gilbert Blythe.

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” he said enthusiastically, his eyes sparking with a sudden reflection of joy. “You didn’t come down for dinner for so long, I was sure you’d foregone it altogether.”

“I’m afraid Mrs Lynde would never allow that. _You_ know it, Gilbert,” Anne answered shyly, embarrassed both by his pointing out her behaviour and the unexpected feeling of peace his appearance had brought. “She threatened not to let me look after Marilla if I didn’t, and we both know it’s a threat she would have no problem fulfilling.”

Gilbert shook his head with worry. “I’m glad she did, or who knows what you might end up trying next. You really are overdoing it, Anne-girl.”

“Anne-girl?” she bristled, newly astonished. “Why, am I truly such a child in your eyes to deserve such nickname, _Mr Blythe_?”

“Well, you’re not exactly being a reasonable adult now, are you?” he contradicted her readily and walked over to her; he saw her blush at the comment and even wondered at the sighed for a while, but said nothing of it. “Come, I didn’t mean to mock you – I’m simply glad there is someone here to look after you when you’re too busy caring for Marilla to do so for yourself. Even if it’s by the means of blackmail sometimes.”

“So the end justifies the means?”

“In this case yes, I believe it does.” Again, Gilbert’s answer was firm and yet, not at all void from that concern that she could hear in his voice from the start. “You _must_ take good care of yourself if you want to help others – that rule is as obvious as it is true… and besides, I really don’t want to argue with you right now.”

“Any special reasons for that?” Anne responded, forcing herself to sound lightly again, so she could finally match his earlier tone.

Gilbert smiled fondly at her. “No other than the usual – that, and the fact that it’s a little too late hold a proper discussion right now; and I’d hate to part before we could possibly make up.”

Anne returned the smile, even though her exhaustion made it impossible for it to reach her eyes.

She understood his meaning perfectly, realising that his unforeseen entering was not to be followed by a longer stay. He had, most probably, only come to pronounce his work done, and to wish her family a good night before he went to meet with his own. All of the sudden, she felt she did not want to see him go; but go he must, she knew, and there was nothing she could – or would – do about the matter.

His next words confirmed what she had already believed to be true.

“I’m assuming Mrs Lynde is with the twins right now,” he said simply. “I was hoping to see her and report the progress with the repairs but then again, there isn’t much to tell except that we’ve managed to finish almost every task she had given us, and I don’t doubt that Davy has already told her all the details she needed to know. Or more than that, if I know him at all,” he added playfully.

“I’ll make sure to repeat what you’ve said to her anyway, so that she knows that Davy isn’t exaggerating this time. Is there anything else you’d like me to pass along?”

“Nothing but my best wishes of a good and peaceful night for all. But I’ve kept you long enough, Anne – I’m sure you’d rather be with Marilla now than chatting here with me. So once again, goodnight – and I hope it will bring you rest, too.”

He turned around then and walked towards the door, ready to see himself out without any further assistance. As for Anne, she was quite determined to let him do just that… until he turned around again to bid his final goodbye and she realised that she was not at all willing to part with him like this.

“I’ll walk you to the gate,” she announced abruptly, silently praying that her agitation was not as ridiculously obvious to him as it was to her. “I’ve promised Mrs Lynde that I’d come to see the twins before I sit with Marilla again, but I have no place there until they are done preparing for sleep. So you see, I have a few minutes to spare anyway – and I could certainly use some fresh air, too. I haven’t left the house since we got here last night.”

“Far be it from me to discourage you, then,” Gilbert assured her readily, opening the door for them and keeping them so until they were both safely on the other side of the threshold.

The night around was quiet. No wind was howling, neither near nor far; no sounds echoing, except for the distant murmuring of frogs and the gentle rustle of leaves, moved carefully by the same breeze that now came to caress their own cheeks as well. No words were spoken and few glances were shared as they walked towards the gate, the same by which they had had their first real chat as friends and which had witnessed so many such conversations in the years to come.

Still silent, Gilbert removed the primitive blockage and pushed the gate open; and yet, he made no other move, except turning ever so slightly towards Anne, fixing his gaze on her face with both fervency and dismay, as if fighting his own urge to speak, not sure what it was that he wanted to say exactly.

He opened his mouth to do so; only to hear Anne speak to him instead.

“Will you come tomorrow?” she asked unexpectedly, in that moment realising that it was this very question that had made her follow him, that specific need to ask him what she had not dared to ask before. Her eyes were wide with anticipation as she waited for him to respond; but she said nothing more.

Gilbert made no immediate answer, too surprised by her words to form his own, and chose to continue to look at her instead. His gaze was steady, yet it was intense, his features schooled properly, even though his heartbeat was once again speeding up.

With the smallest frown he leaned down and asked, “Do you want me to?”

Anne’s eyes met his and for a second she, too, was too taken aback to make a firm, coherent answer. The evil spell didn’t last long, however; and in the next moment her eyes lit up again as she nodded her shy yet urgent ‘yes’, which no matter how subtle, could not be misinterpreted in any way. Relief reflected on Gilbert’s face as soon as he saw the sign.

“Then I believe we may safely call it a deal,” he said, smiling brightly at her, and held out his hand; Anne took it with a soft chuckle and squeezed it. “I must be honest with you – I _hoped_ that you would allow me to come. I can’t promise you when I’ll be here exactly, since I expect to be given some work at my own house tomorrow; but I do promise to arrive as soon as it’s possible. Now, Anne -” he added before she could cut in with her assurances of no need for such rush. “I think we’ve both deserved a good night’s sleep after all this hard work today. Please, for my sake, try to get some rest yourself. And… Well, _goodnight_ , I guess.”

With one last squeeze he finally let go of her hand and turned around to leave the grounds of the Green Gables farm at last. Anne watched him until he reached the top of the nearest hill, from where he saluted her for one last time; then she smiled and, with a heart swelling with both misery and hope, she once again entered the house that she had learnt to call her home.


	7. A sister, a daughter, a friend

Contrary to Gilbert’s wishes, the upcoming night was not to be a peaceful one.

It did seem so at first; there was no sign of change nor danger when Anne returned inside, nor was there any when she eventually made her way upstairs to see the twins. Unsurprisingly, she was greeted with much enthusiasm by both, each of the children displaying their affection in the manner that suited them best: Dora, smiling shyly at her but at the same time refusing to let go of her arm, curled up by her side with all the trust her little nature could summon, while Davy jumped around the room, telling stories and prompting Anne to share her own.

He refrained from climbing onto her lap this time, as she had half expected him to do; he was a boy of twelve now, after all, and as such he had a new code to follow, especially in regard of the fairer sex and his show of affection towards its representatives. He did take his place by Anne’s side, however, and after a moment’s consideration, he decided to give her a most heartfelt hug, having come up with two very good reasons for changing his mind.

First was, of course, the fact that in his eyes Anne was nothing but a sister and being one, she could hardly fall under the same rules that the girls in his class did.

The second was the fact that he had not seen her in months.

Anne remained with them for a long while, answering their questions and coming up with a few of her own, trying to make up for her previous delay in the best way she could think of. Being a young woman of twenty-two, she had no rules forbidding a display of affection before those dear to her heart and thus felt at ease keeping the children close to her, much to their contentment.

She expected to stay with them as long as common sense allowed and even went as far as to promise them so, remarking however that they should also remember of their school duty on the upcoming day.

“But can’t we just stay home with _you_?” Davy pleaded obstinately. “We could help you around the house and I could go on with those repairs I started with Gilbert today – you know Anne, he really isn’t the greatest farmer, even though Mr Blythe is so good at it – so we wouldn’t cause any trouble to you or Mrs Lynde, would we, Dora?”

“You are _always_ causing trouble,” his sister answered wearily and yawned, remembering, however, to cover her mouth like the little lady she was trying so hard to be.

Anne smiled at both comments and shook her head at them.

“There is no need for you to sacrifice your time at school, Davy-boy, especially now that I’m back to help Mrs Lynde with all the chores,” she said with a meaningful look before she ruffled the boy’s hair playfully. “You are going to school tomorrow, young man, whether you like it or not.”

“But then we won’t get to spend any time with you!” Davy protested instantly. “And we’re not doing anything important at school anyway.”

“I dare say your teacher would strongly disagree. And as to spending time with me – I’m not going anywhere. I know I haven’t been around much today, staying with Marilla and all, but I promise you that it won’t be like that every day. And then, when Marilla recovers, we will have a whole summer to spend together in whatever way we please!”

“Does that mean you’ll see us off to school tomorrow, then?” Dora inquired timidly, finally joining the conversation.

“Yes, about that!” Dave added, before Anne managed to even open her mouth to respond. “Gilbert is very nice and all but I don’t think he knows very much about children, does he, Anne?”

Anne’s eyebrows rose a little at the exclamations as well as the question that had prompted it. She looked into both little faces attentively.

“He used to be a teacher himself, you know,” she said with a careful smile. “And since I know him to be a good one, I’d say he knows just enough.”

“But he isn’t _you_ , Anne!” Dora objected suddenly, pressing her face against the other girl’s upper arm, as if surprised by her own boldness behind such a statement.

Anne’s smile widened at this unexpected exclamation, the best proof of how much these two children still cared for her. Her own heart swelled with joy at this display of how loved she was – she, the orphaned Anne Shirley, of whom no one had spoken with concern a little more than a decade ago! - and she could hardly react differently than by embracing them both, holding them even closer to her than she had before.

“And it’s for the best, I assure you – I don’t think Avonlea would have survived _two_ Annes, and in the same classroom, no less,” she answered laughingly before she leaned down to kiss the crowns of their heads. “Regardless, I think I can promise you to be the one to walk you to the gate tomorrow morning and hopefully, every day for the rest of the school year as well. Would that be enough for you, my dears?”

They had no chance to respond to that question as Mrs Rachel dashed inside, urging Anne to follow her at once while simultaneously ordering the twins to go their respective beds with no further delay. All three complied without demur – all three paling instantly, realising that there could only be one cause for such an abrupt change of air.

As the twins dived under their duvets, Anne followed Mrs Lynde to Marilla’s bedroom, not yet realising that it was there where she would spend a greater part of the night, not able – or willing – to abandon her post until well after dawn.

Time seemed to have slowed down painfully, as the same few hours that had passed so quickly in the morn now dragged into eternity. There was such fear, such doubts when they didn’t know whether they should call the doctor already or whether their own care and common sense would be enough to let them endure it all unharmed. It was the second option that won, with Mrs Rachel’s strong argumentation that neither the high fever nor the coughing that accompanied it were anything she had not seen or fought before – that supported by her assertion that Doctor Spencer had given specific instructions on how to act in such circumstances in this particular case.

By the end of her watch Anne’s exhaustion had come to a point where she could barely keep her eyes open anymore. Her skin was pale as it had not been in years, not since the day she had seen Matthew fall; her slender hands trembling as she rubbed them against her face, trying to wipe away her own tiredness, together with the tears that came with it.

It was so great that when Marilla calmed down at last and Mrs Lynde suggested that the two of them should use the chance and go to beds as well, Anne could hardly find it in herself to protest. Bearing in mind the promise she had made to her adopted siblings on the preceding eve as well as the other duties that the new day had in store for her, she surprised her companion with a compliant nod and short but heartfelt wishes of a good night.

Quietly, she made her way to her little white room and to her own bed.

Unlike on the two previous nights, she fell asleep with no further trouble.

It was three hours later when she left her bedroom again and came downstairs to lit the fire before she returned to the upper floor to make sure Davy and Dora left theirs in time. She was beyond glad to realise that Mrs Rachel had not beaten her to either of those tasks and that she was, in fact, still soundly asleep, snoring healthily in her own part of the house; and the children, aware of the peculiarity of the situation, were determined to behave their best, too.

They dressed up and breakfasted readily and even managed to refrain from asking too many questions while doing so – and when Anne had said her goodbye at the gate, Davy eagerly promised her that he would not make any turmoil during the classes, either. Even if, he added solemnly, it meant having to ignore Milty Boulter’s insufferable bragging about his height.

As for Anne, the hours that followed their farewell all seemed a blur to her. With Mrs Lynde taking care of Marilla for the day, Anne found herself running in and out of the house, taking on chores so different from one another as brewing tea was from looking to the cows. She worked relentlessly, determined not to give herself too much time to think, choosing a next task for herself before she was done with the current one, thus ensuring she would not end up unoccupied.

The fresh country air did her good, bringing to her cheeks some of the colour she had lost during the night; the coolness of the house allowed her to catch her breath after the time she spend exposed to the sun and heat outside.

During those hours of restlessness Anne’s eyes often turned towards where Marilla lay, be the place represented by the window seen from the garden or the staircase that led upstairs. That nervous little habit was of no surprise to her and could easily be explained even to those who knew nothing about the Green Gables household at all… If not for a small detail that accompanied it.

Whether she liked it or not, Anne could not deny that while her thoughts ran towards her sick guardian, her eyes were no less driven to the gate before their house and the hill that loomed in the distance on the other side of it.

The hill behind which the Blythe farm stood.

She tried not to think much about the matter, reminding herself of Gilbert’s own words. He had told her that he would come, and that itself should have been enough to silence her anxiety – after all, when had he ever failed to keep a word given to her? But he had also said that he could not name a specific hour of his arrival, so it was even sillier to doubt him so early in the day.

And yet, as the lunchtime came and went, with Mrs Lynde once again leaving her to occupy herself in whatever way she chose, Anne was forced to admit that even the rational part of her was too weary to see much sense in this kind of explanation. Had she been allowed to tend to Marilla now, she would have been fine; had the twins been at home and in need of her help, she knew she wouldn’t have minded the present setting, either.

And yet, Mrs Rachel was not one to bend easily, and it was a truth Anne had known well, having tested it on the matron more than a few times herself – and then having watched Davy do it in her stead all over again. And it would be a long while before the twins were be back, too.

Miserable and weary, and most importantly, with her guard let down, she found herself finally crumbling under the tension which she had managed to ignore for so many hours now. The awareness of that particular error had come to her too late and much too suddenly to prevent the consequences it brought; within moments she could be seen hunching, her eyes watering with a new set of ready tears and only so much reason left as to make her seek support on the old sofa in the parlour instead of falling on the floor right where she stood.

She collapsed onto her seat helplessly, bringing her hands to her face as she sobbed violently into the only handkerchief she had got.

She remained like this for long minutes, undisturbed by company and deaf to all noises that would have caught her attention, had she not been in a state of such distress. The singing of birds no longer brought comfort to her; the whistling of the wind could spark no joy. She did not care for the sound a breaking branch made nor the thud that echoed in the distance when it fell to the ground, and even less so for the commotion it caused between the animals on their farm.

And if she heard the gentle knock that came to her front door or the creak of the hinges as it was opened and closed, she paid it no mind, regardless of the concerned, caring calling that followed so soon afterwards.

In the same way it had been when he’d come to Patty’s Place three days afore, Gilbert Blythe was not to be warned about her state.

“Goodness, Anne, what’s the matter?” he cried out, alarmed, as soon as he had spotted her slouched figure and set off towards her in a rushed stride, startling her equally with his actions and words. In a moment he was by her seat, kneeling before her as he tried to meet her eye and then was forced to grasp her wrist when she had raised her hands in an attempt to cover her flushed face once again. She fought him for a time but gave up eventually, knowing she was too weak to keep doing so for long.

It was also then when she remember how much she had missed him before.

“Anne, please, just tell me what it is,” she heard him plead but shook her head, begging him with her eyes to give her those few moments necessary to regain her composure and calm down enough to speak.

Unable to see through the curtain of her pain, Gilbert failed to understand the message this time.

“Whatever has happened, you don’t have to deal with it alone,” he urged her. “I’m here and I’m listening, only -”

“Gilbert, _please_ ,” she managed to choke out then, successfully making him fall silent for a moment. The look he gave her was questioning and so filled with ache that Anne was sure it must have mirrored her own perfectly; not wishing to upset him any further, she closed her eyes and swallowed painfully. “Just… Just give me a minute, will you?”

Given the circumstances, Gilbert could do little more than nod and even that gesture could not be seen by the girl who had asked it of him. Impatiently, he waited, striving not to give in to the visions that had overcome him at her sight and the terrible scenarios that rushed in his mind as he gazed at her attentively.

Almost exactly after the promised minute he felt her seat back and pull her hands away in the obvious attempt to free them from his clasp. Taken aback, he released his already loosened grip and felt her slim wrists slid out of it – and then was amazed again at the realisation that Anne’s intention was not to pull away from him, but to take his hands in her own instead.

Regardless of the fact that only in the course of the last few days he himself had initiated such contact three times, as well as his awareness that Anne had not protested to such boldness on his side once, he could not help but think of how different it was this time.

Namely because it was the first time in their history when Anne herself was the one to initiate it.

His musing was cut off abruptly when he saw her open her eyes again. Still not quite sure of herself, Anne did not dare to speak to him – though to be completely honest, she was not able to tell whether gazing at Gilbert as she chose to do instead was calming her, or was it maybe the reason why she suddenly wanted to cry even more.

“Oh, Gil, I’ve been such a fool!” she exclaimed unexpectedly before she broke into sobs once more. She did not try to raise her hands to her eyes again, choosing to tighten her grip on Gilbert’s fingers instead; praying that he could find it him to be as patient with her as she needed him to be.

Unaware of her prayers and yet unconsciously fulfilling every one of them, Gilbert knelt before her silently, his heart breaking at the sight of the girl so beloved and his own helplessness in the time of crisis. There was nothing he wanted more than to aid her; to soothe and comfort and to tell that all would be well and that the time of her suffering was to be over soon; to simply take the place by her side and draw her close, holding her in his arms until she realised these truths herself – and if not, then to at least show her her the real magnitude of his support and readiness, and _love._

And yet, he did neither. The former he couldn’t do, if only for his lack of knowledge and his reluctance to feed false hope, especially when he still had not learnt where the problem lay.

To do the latter was not, had never been his right.

Before he could think of anything else, Anne raised her head again, meeting his eyes while her own still sparkled with tears.

“I didn’t realise how bad it really was,” she stammered eventually. “I had been so scared at first, so sure that it had been too late when we came back that I let myself get lost in my own relief when they told me it was not. I allowed myself to hope and to… _relax…_ to put my concerns away, believing that my presence and care would be enough to make her well again. Only it obviously is not.”

She sniffed inelegantly and bit her lip, fighting her urge to succumb into her weeping again. Gilbert, who didn’t need to look any closer to see the struggle written all over her, gave her hands a little squeeze; then he withdrew one of his, only to bury it in his pocket, searching for the handkerchief his companion undoubtedly needed.

Wordlessly it was given; wordlessly it was received.

And Anne’s trembling hand never stopped clutching his.

“She barely recognises me,” she whispered brokenly after a while, her breathing uneven and her voice weak. “I paid it no mind at first. I knew she’d be exhausted and that she needed her sleep; Mrs Lynde warned me that her answers might be groggy and I went to her expecting that. But… This isn’t groggy, Gil. It’s _unconscious_.”

She shuddered again at her own words then and closed her eyes tight while she pressed the now damp handkerchief to her lips in the hope of muffling the little moans that escaped her mouth against her will.

“It just isn’t right,” she resumed. “I want to have faith but I fear it’s too arrogant of me to have it. I want to pray for her recovery but when I kneel down, I’m too full of anger and hurt to do so. And every time I decide I will simply focus on looking after her physically I realise that I have no idea how to effectively do that.”

For the last time she fell quiet, the silence around them heavier than it had been at any point that day. Gilbert realised that she hadn’t finished her confession yet, and that this upcoming part was probably the most substantial one of all.

And yet even he couldn’t foresee the words she was about to cast at him.

“I had watched people go down with pneumonia so many times before I came here. Mrs Thomas’ neighbour and friend; Mr Hammond’s brother in law; the children at the asylum and even one of the staff that worked there. Not one of those cases was as sever as Marilla’s is – and they all died anyway.”

She said nothing more after that, letting the silence wrap over them once more, no longer disturbed by the sounds of her words nor even the crying that she had somehow managed to hold back. It was a bitter silence that came, not at all like one they had basked in so often in their happy days of old; not even the heavy but still tolerable silence of shared worry and companionship that had fallen on them so often on their way back home only two short days ago. Gilbert needed little time to sense the difference and even less so to point out the reason for such change after he had.

Anne was not hiding her feelings from him now.

She simply was too broken – to hollow – to have any.

“Alright, Anne, this stops now,” he announced unexpectedly, rising to his feet and pulling a very surprised – and to his relief, very compliant – Anne with him. “I know you’re afraid and now I can fully understand the reasons why; but you know it won’t help, and even though personally I think you deserve a good cry just like anybody else, I also know that you’ll be the first to reprimand yourself for wallowing in your sorrow any longer than you really need to be.”

“Oh, but don’t you see?!” she cried out then, yanking her hands out of his clasp while her eyes flashed with green for the first time in days. “There is nothing else I can do now. I’ve tried to keep myself busy for most of today, tried to tell myself that taking care of the farm is as important as looking after Marilla right now. That if I can’t be of any use to her health then I can at least take care of the place she loves. But it won’t do; it won’t make a difference. And as long as it doesn’t, it just isn’t worth the time.”

Defeated and scared, she wrapped her arms around her waist and stepped away, suddenly feeling she needed to increase the distance between them, even if for reasons she couldn’t completely understand. She sighed deeply and added, “I could have stayed at Patty’s Place as planned and it wouldn’t have mattered, either.”

“Again, this isn’t true – and again, you know it,” Gilbert contradicted her resolutely. “Do you seriously need me to spell it out for you? To tell you how your arrival has unburdened Mrs Lynde or how much more at ease Davy and Dora are just because they know you’re here for them now?”

“And what does it change for Marilla?!” Anne responded heatedly. “Even when I am allowed to be with her, I can do nothing Mrs Lynde hasn’t done yet. I’m not a nurse – I’m not even _a daughter_ – and as much as I wish otherwise, my hands certainly don’t heal. My endeavours don’t matter. My stay here doesn’t matter.”

“I’d say it matters a great deal that Marilla now has two fairly well-rested nurses instead of a single overly tired one; and don’t you try to pretend you suddenly stopped worrying about the twins because we both know you could hardly come up with a bigger, more ridiculous and improbable lie. Now if you would just look at me -” Gilbert’s stern tone suddenly changed as he stepped ahead and reached out to grasp Anne’s shoulders, as if to make sure she wouldn’t run away now. “I can’t make you cease to worry but please, for my sake, try to be reasonable just for a moment. Doctor Spencer is coming to see Marilla this afternoon, Mrs Lynde has told me that herself; and when he does, you may ask him about anything that concerns you, share all your observations and doubts, and I’m sure he’ll give you all the guidance you need in his turn.”

“And until then?” Anne asked in her last attempt of protest, although she too could say that her defences were crumbling down rapidly. “It will be a good few hours before he gets here, Gil. I’m not sure I can wait this long and still keep my sanity intact.”

Gilbert’s gaze was tender when she met his eye again and he even dared to squeeze her arms gently before he let go of his grasp and stepped back courteously again.

He smiled at her reassuringly and said, “I suggest you go and get some rest instead of trying to finish a week’s worth of chores in one day as you apparently have before. A nap would be best, given how little you must have slept last night; and if that’s beyond you now, then simply sit down and read or maybe go to the garden to do it there.”

“I’ll do the laundry,” Anne responded to that with a new determination that made Gilbert bite his tongue before he could oppose and remark that it was not exactly what he’d had in mind.

He wanted to follow her and ask if he could at least be of some assistance to her, when suddenly he heard the front door open and a very agitated Davy call his greetings to the many inhabitants – and one guest – of the old household.

With a sight that was a mixture of weariness and relief, Gilbert turned on his heel and set off to welcome both of the twins, ready to listen to their stories and aid in their studies accordingly to their needs.

And in the meantime, he hoped Anne would be alright.


	8. Davy's Advice

“You know, Davy, I really don’t think this is what Mr Jones meant when he spoke of approaching this exercise differently.”

Gilbert leaned back in his chair with his arms folded, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched the boy before him struggle with his assignment. They had been going through his homework for about half an hour now, with Gilbert sitting there to supervise rather than to explain; and yet, when Davy turned his textbook around for the fourth time no less, he decided it was high time to put to use his old teaching skills at last.

“Alright, give it here,” he said firmly after straightening up again and reaching for the book in question. “You are clearly missing something out and I can’t guide you if you keep waving your notes in all directions like this – and I _am_ supposed to be helping you.”

“Isn’t that just because Anne asked you to, though?” Davy asked a little suspiciously, but handed the item over without protest. He then jumped from his own seat in order to round the wide table and take one by the side of the man he still could not help but admire.

Gilbert glanced up at him from over the book and raised an eyebrow at him.

“I am fairly certain that sitting here was my idea, not Anne’s,” he responded evenly. “As was the one to go to out farm and help my father with the calves after we’ve finished, but if you think I’m only doing this out of obligation, there clearly is no reason to continue.”

“Oh come _on_ ,” Davy groaned with a simultaneous roll of his eyes, successfully making his older companion chuckle. “I didn’t say _that_. Besides, I don’t understand why you assumed doing something because Anne has asked you to is a bad thing. I do it all the time; and you can bet it’s always nicer than when it’s Mrs Lynde who asks.”

“I bet it is,” Gilbert muttered under his breath.

“But if Anne didn’t ask you, then _why_ are you doing this?” Davy continued regardless. “Mrs Lynde said you must be dreadful tired after all this studying at Redmond, especially with that prize they’re talking about. Don’t you want to _rest_?”

“It doesn’t matter what I do or don’t want; it hardly ever does in situations like this one,” Gilbert answered patiently. “I’m no more tired that Anne is and if you recall, she has just graduated with High Honours herself; nor than Mrs Lynde, with all the hard work she’d been forced to do on her own before we came from Kingsport two days ago. And yet, you don’t see them dodge their duties only because they have worked hard before, do you?”

Davy gave him an exasperated glance before retorting, “But you aren’t _family_. It’s different for you.”

Too busy trying to settle himself on the bench more comfortably, Davy missed the sudden look of hurt that flashed in Gilbert’s usually bright, hazel eyes. The latter made sure to school his features immediately, of course, not at all willing to discuss the subject of his anxiety with the twelve year old boy seated next to him, and not solely because of Davy’s wee age.

With a long sigh that he hoped could be mistaken for a sign of exhaustion, he assumed the best tactics he could think of.

“Not being related isn’t a reason not to help those who are in need; especially if it’s your friends or neighbours that are,” he remarked curtly, his tone mild by stern nevertheless, before he put the textbook back on the table and tapped it with his finger meaningfully. “And since you are both of these, I don’t see why I should not be working with you on your geometry right now. Is that enough of an explanation for you, or are there any other arguments I have to refute before we may start?”

Davy peeked sideways at him for one last time, a little frown forming on his face, but said nothing. He wasn’t stupid; he didn’t need Anne’s reassurances from last night to understand how smart Gilbert Blythe was. The never-ending praises of the young man he had heard along the years would have been enough to convince him, even if they usually came from the older generations for whose opinion he didn’t care much in other respects.

And then Anne had _always_ held Gilbert in great esteem, too, and Davy never would have dared to question her judgement, even if the girl herself did it so often – and if these two reasons hadn’t done it, the fond memories of Gilbert helping them out in the first years of Dora’s and his stay at Green Gables would have been enough to restore his trust, somehow forgotten after Anne had so suddenly ceased to mention her best friend’s name at all.

Their work went swiftly after that, with Davy scribbling with abandon Gilbert had not seen in him before. Every now and then the latter would lean over the textbook or the slate himself, pointing out a number or equation Davy had overlooked – always mindful not to interfere too soon, but to give the boy a chance to try and tackle the problem on his own first.

It was forty minutes later that the slate was pushed away with a long sigh and when Davy stretched out his arms, yawning unashamedly.

Again, Gilbert could do little else than laugh at the display.

“Anne was right, you’re pretty good at this,” Davy admitted benevolently, causing yet another smile on his tutor’s tired face. “Although I still don’t understand why Mr Jones is so stubborn about us being… open… open-something about school.”

“Open-minded, perhaps?” Gilbert suggested generously.

“Yes, I guess that’s it. But I don’t get it – Anne always says there’s no scope for imagination in geometry and then _you_ say it’s all about keeping the right order and remembering the rules. Where’s the room for open-mindedness in that?”

“Well, first of all, I don’t think that’s exactly what I said on the subject,” Gilbert opposed instantly. “Besides, being open-minded doesn’t mean you no longer need your formulas, little genius; only that you should be ready to look at things from different angles, different perspectives at times. And that, mind you, is exactly what we’ve been doing for nearly an hour now.”

“Right, right,” Davy shrugged dismissively. “I won’t argue with you, since you clearly know what you’re talking about. Although Anne _can_ relate better, I think, when she was a dunce in geometry at school herself.”

“And why on earth would you say _that_?” was Gilbert’s astonished reaction.

Davy only shrugged again. “It’s what Anne always says. You were the one who went to school with her. I thought you knew that.”

“Anne was never a dunce,” Gilbert responded firmly, although his hands came up to rub his temples involuntarily, as he recalled the many times he had had to listen to her ramblings on how incompetent she was in that field. “She’s never liked it, that’s true; and it’s no secret that it didn’t come to her as easily as other subjects did. But even though it was the only one in which I could have been sure to outrun her, I’d never agree that it was an easy thing to do.”

As if called by his thoughts of her, Anne came into view then, putting the now finished washing up in their backyard, perfectly oblivious to the pair of hazel eyes tracing her movements from the other side of the window. A wistful smile appeared on Gilbert’s face as he watched her; a thousand thoughts whirling in his mind as he once again struggled to think of how soothing, how oddly familiar the sight of her was.

His musings went back to the scene from earlier in the afternoon, the one that had taken him by such surprise, which however had been nothing but a natural reaction to the hardship on Anne’s part. He was glad to see the change in her now – his smile grew a little warmer at the realisation of it. Of course, she still was a long way from her usual self, or even the condition he had seen her in the other day. Far too calm for her own standards and visibly quieter too (even separated by the distance, he could easily determine that Anne had foregone her usual habit of singing while at work this time), she was still in a much better shape than when he had talked to her last.

And that, he reminded himself, was all that should matter to him now.

He sighed and shook his head almost piteously, unable to chase away the strident thought that had once again found its way into his mind. The few dozens of hours since their arrival from Redmond had not been enough to make him feel comfortable in this place, one that held memories dearer to his heart than anything else in the world. The images of their studying, their enthusiastic talks and most heated arguments; the smell of plum puffs, so often burnt because of said discussions and the clattering of metal whenever Anne tried to save them with that remarkable haste of hers.

It was _Anne,_ always Anne. Ever since he had met her, Green Gables had meant _her_ , with Anne being as much a part of it as it was of her.

Maybe it was a better idea to stop pretending that he was capable of dealing with the past as he had tried to appear. Maybe it was time for him to admit, if not to the world around him, then to himself at least, that he simply wasn’t, nor could ever be, able to face his shattered dreams without the heartache and spite that overcame him so completely every time he was reminded of them.

Maybe it was time he stopped pretending that there could ever be anyone for him but Anne.

“Well, you are better at explaining it, though,” Davy interrupted his thoughts eventually, after he’d ended his own musings on the subjects of geometry and studying in general; then, completely missing the startled wince Gilbert gave in response, he went on. “You know, Gilbert, I think you’d make an awful nice older brother. Milty Boulter says that older brothers only seem like fun to strangers, but can be terribly mean to _their_ brothers when no one else can see. But you wouldn’t be mean to me, would you, Gilbert?”

Too taken aback by this sudden address, Gilbert needed a few moments to comprehend it before he could answer simply, “I hope I would not.”

“And say, wouldn’t you want a little brother like me, too?” Davy continued unflaggingly. “I’m sure we would have an awful lot of fun together, you and I. You could show me all the tricks you know and then I’d share my tricks with you – you _can’t_ know everything, after all – and then we might figure out some new ones together. And I know that you’re an adult and can’t really prank anyone no more, but wouldn’t it be great it to do it together just once? I think even _you_ would enjoy that, even if you were a teacher and all.”

His older companion smiled, remembering the many rigs he had pulled off before going to Alberta, as well as the few he’d executed after coming back – and even a couple he had carried out _there_ , whenever his father had felt well enough to appreciate the wit behind them.

Not to mention his most recent Redmond achievements in the field.

He wanted to say something about the matter – opened his mouth to do so – however, before he could utter a sound, Davy spoke up again.

“You know, Gilbert,” he said carelessly, chewing on his pencil as if the words he was about to utter were the most obvious and thus most boring of truths. “I think Mrs Lynde might be right after all – you really _should_ marry Anne. Then we could be brothers for real.”

If Gilbert was surprised by Davy’s statement before, it was nothing compared to what he felt now. With his lips still parted in his intention to speak, he nearly choked on his breath at the words that had been thrown so casually at him. He wasn’t sure whether his blood had run cold or if it was boiling with the same groundless ire that he’d been forced to battle ever since that dreadful April eve; all he knew was that Davy’s remark, as innocent as it might have seem, was like a dagger that went straight into his heart, successfully breaking through the armour of indifference he’d been trying so hard to maintain.

And yet, he could not afford to have his facade crumble now; and certainly not before any of the inhabitants of this particular home.

“Alright, now slow down a little, will you?” he managed to say eventually, while praying to the Heavens that he could keep up appearances despite the turmoil that raged in his own soul. “First of all, playing matchmaker for the sake of your personal interest is an abominable thing to do and something a gentleman should never as much as think of. Second, if you really want me as sort of a brother – something you might want to reconsider, by the way – I’m sure we could simply agree I’d play that role for you. There really is no need to drag Anne into it, too.”

“But wouldn’t you _want_ to marry her?” Davy insisted stubbornly, utterly unaware of the desolation his comments did to his companions battered heart. “Before you two went to Redmond, Mrs Lynde was always talking about how you would end up married anyway. Honestly, I think Marilla thought that too – so you really can’t blame me for thinking of it. Actually -” he came to a half, as if hesitating, but resumed his speech before Gilbert could interrupt with a remark of his own.

“Actually, they kept saying that _after_ you left Avonlea, too. I suppose that’s why they never let me stay in the kitchen when you came to see Anne. But the point is, you’ve always liked her! And I know she likes you and awful lot, too – so again, why wouldn’t you want to marry her now? I know there is that Roy fellow Mrs Lynde keeps mentioning, though honestly, I don’t think she likes him very much. Blimey! I’m not even sure _Anne_ could really like him. He seems like a total bore to _me_.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing you’re not the one he’s courting,” Gilbert spoke at last, his tone as even as it was cold. “That Roy fellow, as you call him, is a good man, with nothing but best intentions when it comes to Anne. Also, it is unjust to call him anything when you have not met him yourself; _I_ have, and I can assure you that you’re wrong. He may be nothing like you or I, but he is not only intelligent enough, but also kind and considerate enough to be worthy of Anne’s attention. And last but certainly not least, there is absolutely no reason to believe that Anne is indifferent to him; in fact, I think it is quite safe to say that she cares about him very much.”

Silence fell on the room after Gilbert had finished his surprisingly long list of arguments; ones that, to his own astonishment, were perfectly true, and for that all the more damaging as he thought of them.

The woeful quietness prolonged, with neither of them wishing to break it with their words, both realising there was no good way of doing so. However, the same conclusion that made the man in Gilbert remain silent, prompted the boy by his side to straighten up and address the matter directly.

After all, it would only grow more difficult as the time passed.

“You don’t believe it yourself,” he announced firmly, meeting his companion’s eye after the latter had raised his gaze at him in shock once more. “You don’t think he’s good for her. So even if he is as rich as everyone here says he is...”

This time Gilbert’s voice echoed with impatience when he said, “Anne doesn’t care about riches, Davy – you know he well enough to realise this much. Royal Gardner is rich, yes; but he respects Anne and cares for her, and probably even _loves_ her -” his voice cracked a little when he admitted this particular truth. “and for all I know, he’s never used his position as a mean to win her over. He is a gentleman; he will look after Anne well. Better than I ever could for sure.”

Now _that_ was a lie and one of which falseness Gilbert was acutely aware. Oh, of course the Gardners would take care of her, dressing her in silks and velvets, showering her with diamonds she did not like to then bathe with her in the high city life to which she didn’t belong. He bit his cheek angrily, telling himself that it was his jealousy that put such thoughts in his mind – and immediately realising how much more there was to it.

A breath caught in his throat as he thought of the comparison that loomed before him. A life and refinement offered by Roy – and a life of work and struggle laid by her feet by _him_ , together with the promise of love so infinite that he could never put it into words.

Was it really so arrogant of him to believe that his offering, even if not more desired, was at least more meaningful than Roy’s?

As if to confirm his treacherous thoughts, Davy shifted on his seat and with all honesty fit to his disposition and age, he asked simply, “Then why isn’t he here?”

As used as he was to Davy’s questions by now, Gilbert could not find an answer to this one. He tried to summon a memory of one moment when Anne had told him about Roy’s place in all this mess – one time that she had suggested having to write to him to explain her sudden leave – one instance when she had as much as mentioned her dark admirer’s name. He could think of none; and somehow, he was sure that it was cause neither by his partiality nor any unexplained memory loss.

She had _not_ spoken of Roy to him once.

Still not quite knowing how to respond to Davy’s inquiry, he opened his mouth to try and improvise his answer. He was spared the trouble, however, when the door leading to the backyard opened with a creak and an agitated Anne came inside. Both Gilbert and Davy nearly jumped in surprise at her unexpected arrival, both giving her startled looks to which she could not answer differently than with her own portion of amused astonishment.

In an instant, Gilbert realised the impropriety of their welcoming and, somewhat sheepishly, he rose to his feet and approached her, deciding to at least relieve her of the big, heavy laundry basket that she was resting against her hip.

He expected her to object, in the same manner as she had so often of late. However, Anne was clearly too preoccupied to think of such trifles at the moment, and so she took on his offer with nothing but a slightly absent-minded ‘thank you’ coming out of her mouth.

She turned towards Davy then and said, “Davy dear, could you perhaps take a break from your studies and make a little trip to the Wrights? I have a note to Diana that I should have sent much earlier, but there was never enough time for that. Could you run over there and deliver it to her now?”

“Sure can!” her little brother exclaimed with so much exuberance that the former teachers of White Sands and Avonlea could not help but share an understanding glance, remembering how enthusiastically their students had always reacted to their announcements of unexpected breaks. With a smile, Anne reached for the small envelope hidden in her pocket and handed it to the boy in front of her.

It wasn’t a minute later that she and Gilbert were once again left to themselves.

“Well, he clearly did not enjoy our time together as much as I hoped he would,” Gilbert remarked jokingly, immediately deciding not to give Anne any reasons to suspect that they had talked about much more than mathematics before she’d arrived. “Although I suppose we could blame it on his animosity towards learning and thus save my ego from being crushed so completely as it would be otherwise.”

Anne chuckled softly. “It’s _geometry_ , Gil. You can’t have expected him to willingly stay at home for that!”

“Well, just because _some_ people can’t appreciate the fine art of figures does not mean there’s nothing to appreciate, Miss Shirley.”

“Perhaps, but I can tell you with all confidence that you won’t find much love for it in Davy, either. I know him and I know he detests it almost as much as I do.”

“Yes, and the fact that you were the one to raise him certainly bore no impact on how he’s seeing it now.”

This final comment disarmed Anne entirely. With her lips pursed in the hope to hide her amused smile and a playful scowl that had appeared on her forehead so naturally, she raised her hand to swat Gilbert; but his reflex proved to be quicker again as he held the laundry basket as if it had been the finest shield. Anne’s palm met it with force not meant for it and she hissed quietly at the unpleasantness of the encounter.

“Live by the sword, die by the sword,” he told her resolutely in response to the glare she had gifted him with. “I’m sorry, though; and before you decide to stop talking to me again, I’ve got a peace offering to go with my apology.”

“Oh? And what would that be?” Anne asked with the weakest trace of curiosity.

Gilbert grinned with satisfaction.

“A secret,” he revealed cryptically. “One that is closely related to Davy himself as well as to his academic endeavours, among which the infamous geometry surely takes a most significant place.”

Anne’s eyebrows went up as she listened to him expectantly. Well assured that the victory in this little clash would be his, Gilbert allowed the pause in conversation to drag for a little longer than necessary and making it far more dramatic than it needed to be, before leaning in with all his nonchalance and whispering conspiratorially:

“He _is_ better at it.”

Such a finale could not earn him anything but another swat, one that he did not manage to avoid this time. The pricking in his arm was nothing, however; not when it was accompanied by Anne’s soft laughter and a shining in her eyes that he had not expected to see for a few more days at least. His own unpleasant musing was pushed aside, left for a time when he would not stand so close to her, when he would not be allowed to admire her in the way he was – very consciously – doing now.

And yet, the same consciousness that made it possible for him to appreciate the moment unreservedly also made him realise that it would not last forever – and than, considering the circumstances, it might have been best if he were the one to end it.

“So, are you going to tell me what that rush was really about?” he asked, feigning neutrality. “What is it that Diana needs to know that is so urgent that Davy can’t finish his homework?”

“Oh, it’s nothing special, actually,” Anne responded, a little abashed. “I’ve been meaning to send Di a few words about the situation here since we returned – I know she’s been asking about Marilla constantly and I’m sure she would offer all possible help too if it wasn’t for her own current state – but there just hasn’t been the time. And a good thing too, for now it served as a perfect excuse to have Davy out of the way.”

It was Gilbert’s turn to raise his eyebrows at her, an amused smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “And why, pray tell me, would you need him out of the way _now_?”

“Because the doctor will be here soon,” she responded evenly, clearly oblivious to the slyness of his tone. “I saw him coming down the road and figured that it would be best to have the children out of the house. Dora finished her homework about a quarter ago and has been tending to her flowers in the garden ever since; she won’t leave them for another half an hour at least.”

“And having Davy in the barn with me wouldn’t be enough?”

“You weren’t in the barn, though, you were _here_. And as I said, I’ve been meaning to send that note to Diana for a while now, so -”

Interrupting her answer mid-sentence, a knock came at the door. Knowing it could only mean one visitor, Anne ran over to greet him while Gilbert decided to seek solitude in the backyard, not sure how his presence at Green Gables might be received by an outsider – and as sure as he was of Doctor Spencer’s discretion, he’d rather not risk any more gossip flying around.

It was only when he stepped outside that he realised that the laundry basket was still held firmly in his arms; but it was too late to do anything but to put it down on a nearby bench and make a mental note to remember to take it inside later.

And then he set off to his duties, praying that the doctor would find Marilla’s condition better than they all feared it was.


End file.
